


The Care and Feeding of Angels

by Wynele



Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Angels are kind of shady, Chloe is in the loop, F/M, Family Drama, Gen, Spoilers to season 3, The angels need better parents, hurt/comfot
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-12-21
Updated: 2018-04-13
Packaged: 2019-02-17 20:52:21
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 20,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13085142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wynele/pseuds/Wynele
Summary: When an angel is found murdered, Chloe and Lucifer must work together to find the killer before Lucifer becomes the next victim.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> Hello, folks. This story is the result of the cannibalization of multiple stories and random ideas that have been sitting on my hard drive since season 1. A bit of a Frankenstien's story, truth be told. This will be a multi-chapter story that I plan to update at least bi-monthly. Also, for now, it's currently unbeta'd.

_“I’m not afraid to die,” Frank Lawrence had said while bleeding from a mortal wound. He had meant it then._

_“You should be,” cried the Devil himself. “It’s really boring where you’re going.”_

_I hope so…._

Frank shifted uncomfortably, wincing as something dug into his spine.  It was early, too early, and he had not slept well. Memories of a strange woman hung in the corners of his mind. More dream thing than real, she grabbed and pulled at him until finally he felt something deep within him snap and give way.

 

Then there were dark wings and sad eyes, and a chat with a strange old man. The man was fearsome, yet kind and filled with a sort of sad apathy. Everything and nothing mattered to the old man.

 

Frank was reminded of his mother and her obsession with photo albums. Once he pointed to a blurry water stained photo and wondered who it might be. His mother simply shrugged and taped it in place next to an equally unrecognizable photo. Then, she reverently placed the album on a shelf where it would remained enshrined until her death. A picture in an album was somehow worth less than the album itself.   

 

After a long while, the old man seemed satisfied and disappeared without a word. Then the sad eyed woman returned, and carried him off to a land of wind and sunshine.

 

Frank pawed at his face, trying to shake the sleep from his mind.  He propped himself on one elbow. Yawning wide, he squinted, his eyes aching in the early morning sunlight. He blinked hard, yawning as he slowly looked around.   

 

To his surprise, he was splayed on a hillside, near a worn and well traveled path. The sky was blue and clear above him. Tall grasses swayed in the a breeze perfumed by wildflowers, their blades sparking with the morning dew.

 

“Congratulations,” greeted a soft, whimsical voice from somewhere behind him. “You’re dead.”

 

Frank scrambled and turned until he was sitting up in the direction of the voice. There perched on a huge boulder was a young girl of no more than thirteen.

“It’s not like Azrael to just dump deaders in the field,” she mused, her slight European lilt adding a sort of cultivated mischief to her tone. “Did you bite her?”

 

Baffled, Frank opened his mouth, then closed it with a click.  He took in her honey blonde pigtails and the freckles dotting the bridge of her nose. Her clothes were old fashioned, but clean and pressed. Her feet were bare and there was a scab on one knee. All in all, she appeared to be a normal child. And yet….

 

He decided to let it go for the moment and smiled a ghost of a smile. “Maybe I did.”     

  

The girl nodded in approval and climbed to her feet to stand on the boulder. “I bit her once,” she admitted, wide eyes and voice low, as if telling a dark secret, and wrinkled her nose. ”Drew blood and everything. Uriel was so upset.”

 

“So was Azrael, I imagine.”

 

“Naw.” The girl wrinkled her nose and shook her head. Her pigtails flew sideways, whipping around her face. “If you’re little and cute enough, you can get away with anything.”  

 

Frank splayed his hand in the grass, feeling the individual blades of grass between his fingers. “I’ll take your word for it.”

 

“Really?” the girl deadpaned and pursed her lips until tiny dimples appeared in her cheeks. “I wouldn’t”

 

Something in her tone made Frank smile. She was so young, and yet had an irreverence usually reserved for older, more cynical people.  It made his heart sing and sob, almost within the same beat.  

 

“What’s your name, kid?”

 

The girl mock gasped and clutched her hands to her chest. “Oh, of course. I almost forgot. I’m Eleanor,” she replied dramatically, her hazel eyes sparkling with mischief. “But most people just call me Ellie.”

 

“All right, Ellie,” he begins, his voice even and kind, and shoved himself up to his feet. “How ‘bout you come down from there before you fall so we can figure out where we are?”

 

“Oh, I already know where we are,” Ellie chirped, leaning forward to look down at him. “We’re in the fields outside The Silver City.  The ancient souls call it Elysium, but the angels call it something different.”

 

Then, her expression brightened as if she had suddenly remembered a exceptionally juicy secret. “Did you know that Azrael’s three favorite things are plagues, natural disasters, and kittens?”  

 

He gaped like a fish for a moment, and then gave her a cautious sideye. “I can’t say I did.”

 

Ellie bobbed her head again, her pigtails bouncing against her shoulders. “She actually quite sweet,” she insisted, fondly. Then her voice dropped low as her eyes darted from side to side, searching.

 

 “I should know. I bit her pretty hard.”

 

Frank shook his head in silent laughter. On his feet, he had a better view of his surroundings. Leaning and stretching, he walked forward and stood at the edge of the path. It was paved, but worn from frequent travel, with many of its cobblestones cracked or missing.  

 

The path curved around the hillside, and then beneath the branches of a giant birch. In the distance, he see a multitude of silver towers so tall they seemed to scrape the sky.

 

“The Silver City,” he breathed, his heart racing. Excited, he turned back to Ellie and saw that she had climbed down from the rock. “Those towers. Are they in the City?”

 

Ellie moved to stand beside him and stared up at him with strangely dispassionate eyes. “Yes,” she more intoned, than answered. “Well, in a way. They’re in the City, but not part of it. They belong to the big angels.”

 

He looked down at Ellie, noting her cold, almost distant expression.  “Big angels?” he asked, watching a strange look flow over Ellie’s features.  

 

It was gone as soon as it came, tossed away with a simple half shrug.  

 

“The older angels,” Ellie explained. She twirled the end of one pigtail, and then tossed it behind her back. “The towers are were the angels work on their own projects. “Sometimes they allow souls to visit, but it’s rare.”

 

Frank nodded and squinted into the distance, trying to make out tiny details. “What sort of projects?”

He looked back when Ellie didn’t answer, only to find her gone. He smiled and crept up to the rock. He had played this game with his daughter and the children in his parish. When an adult was distracted, they would sneak off and hide. There they would lay in wait until the adult came looking. Then they would leap out of their hiding places with a roar. His little girl used to love this game.

 

Half-laughing, he pressed against the rock and called in name in a sing-song tone. The only reply was a sudden uptick in the wind.  “Ellie?” he called again, this time serious, and walked around to the back of the rock.

 

She was nowhere to be found. He frowned and looked around, scanning the area for any sign of her. There was nothing. No sign of her or her departure. It was if she had been completely imagined.  And perhaps, she had been. .  

 

Shoulders sagging, he walked back to the path. It stung that she had abandoned him without a word. Even so, something niggled at him, telling him that this was not he would see of the girl.  

 

Left with only two options, he stepped on the path. In all the stories he had ever read, and all the metaphors he had ever heard, there was a gate that led into Heaven.  

__

 “The path leads to a gate,” he whispered to himself, his insides twisting with nervous tension, “and the Archangel Uriel.”

__

__At first, I didn’t understand God put me in your path, but then it hit me. Maybe he put me in yours.__  

 

“Maybe,” he repeated, shaking off the flash of memory. He toed at the ground with one foot, sending a loose cobblestone skittering. For a moment, he simply stood there kicking up dirt and stones with his heels, then he had the unmistakable sensation that he was being watched.

 

Almost on instinct, or a puppet on strings, he looked to the horizon and the silver towers looming in the distance. The towers were wonders to behold. Each a shinning silver, but not the pure color of sterling. They were a color closure to hematite. Some of the towers were decorated with colorful flags and banners. While others had windows of stained glass. No two towers were alike, and yet, none were out of place.

 

Awestruck as he was at the majestic whole, it was the eastern most tower that truly caught his eye. It was the same hematite silver as the others, but bereft of all decoration, save an oddly familiar carving on its rooftop.

 

Soft light emanated from the tower, brightening the backdrop of the city. The light flickered and sputtered, like a candle forgotten on a windowsill. Defying the wind to keep the darkness away, never realizing that the wind could carry its fair share of flame.  

 

“I can’t cross anyone’s path, unless I start walking my own,” he said, speaking directly to the tower. “Is that what you’re saying?

 

The tower’s light flared, then dimmed, steadying to an even glow. He wonder about the angel who called it home.   

 

“I guess, so,” Frank answered with a small self-depreciating smile. “Never thought I’d end up asking a tower for advice, but here I am.”

 

Without another word, he set out on the path, one foot in front of the other. He traveled around a hillside, through a valley, and then over a long bridge and back into another valley.

 

He whistled as he walked, mostly to occupy his mind. Bathed in the light of the tower, the tension he didn’t know he had began to ease.  His whistling gave way to a gentle hum that eventually turned into a fully belted song.  His deep baritone, rumbling around the pristine countryside.  

 

Every once in a while he would look to the east tower. It continued to glow with a warm, steady light.  It never wavered. His beacon among beacons.  

 

After what seemed like days of walking, he arrived on the outskirts of an ancient forest. He walked in without any hesitation, whistling at the sight of trees larger than any redwood. “Well, look at that,” he breathed.  Awestruck, he turned in place, neck craning to see all around.  

 

The path was in better shape here, its stones pristine and freshly swept. Trees lined either side of the path, their branches heavy with a multitude of brightly colored fruit. He looked up, straining, seeing only bits of blue sky through the canopy of trees.  Above his head, a pomegranate bobbed merrily out of reach.

 

He watched the fruit for a moment, mouth watering as it swayed in the breeze. Looking around, and then back at the pomegranate, he realized there was still no one to be seen. He stood on tiptoe and stretched as far as he could.  His fingertips scratched at the ruby red fruit only for it to bob again out of reach.

 

Sensing a challenge, his almost cracked in two with a wide grin. Basketball had never been his sport, but he remembered a cold, rainy November morning. He and the band were on their way to Memphis from Austin when the tour bus broke down. Conner’s Father could change a tire, but the belching, steaming maw that was the bus’ engine was well out of his expertise.  

 

So, they did the only thing they could do--played a round of hoops with a half deflated volleyball and the bus’ old broken out skylight. It made sense at the time, even if now he found himself shaking his head. He was young and foolish then, years away from the heartache that would eventually bring him here.    

 

With the memory fresh in his mind, he issued a challenge to the fruit with a grin. Bending at the knees, he sprang, narrowly missing his target. Undeterred, he prepared to jump again, only to stumble back and almost fall when two woman appeared in the clearing several yards away.  

 

Uttering a started squeak, he backpedaled and darted behind a tree. He pressed himself flush against the tree and held his breath.  A moment passed, and then, another.  He breathed a shaky sigh of relief. The woman had either not seen him or were not bothered by his presence. Ever so slowly, he slid sideways, the tree’s bark scraping against his cheek to peek out into the clearing.

 

To his relief, and admitted dismay, both women were standing in the clearing and blocking the path out the forest. From his vantage point he noted their strange clothing, as well as the agitation that seemed to cling to the pair.  

 

The taller of the women wore a silvery gown that shimmered when she moved. Her dark curls were done up in a multitude of elaborate curls, and thin silver circlet rested on her brow. She watched the other woman curse and pace, her dark armor creaking in the relative silence of the forest.  

 

“Are you going to tell me what this is about, Azrael?” the tall woman challenged. Her put upon tone had a cultured, pleasing accent that most would assume was British. “I could guess, but you rarely appreciate my assumptions.”

  

“I’m done,” Azrael finally spat, and pulled down her hood so that it covered most of her face. “Lucifer’s little friend was the last one.”

 

“Lucifer’s friend?” Frank whispered a bit too loudly, cringing inwardly, and shook his head in disbelief. She couldn’t be speaking of him. Once again his head swam and he found himself falling back into memory.   

 

He remembered a peaceful place of pure gray fog and glowing lights. There were others there. People from all walks of life. They drifted together, always together. Sometimes they would trade stories and speak of their loves ones. They would laugh and pray and hope, but mostly, they waited.

 

Waited and wandered, winding ever closer to a great gnarled tree in the center of their gray expanse. Then, one day, a newcomer came and Frank slipped away. Inching closer to the tree than he had ever been, he noticed a man with tawny wings sitting upon on a stump.

 

Frank backpedaled on instinct, and tried to mouth a greeting, but no words came. The man rose slowly, watching Frank with an almost clinical curiosity. He opened his mouth in a lazy yawn, revealing perfect teeth, and waved his hand almost idly.  Then, there was the sound of great wings and the gate before him slammed shut.

 

“Pity,” mused Azrael, her face bare. “I was rather hoping you would make it to the tree.”

 

Frank took several deep breaths and tried to shake off the memory.  He wondered what was wrong with him. Why his mind seemed to flicker between past and present. No doubt, it had something to do with this place.  

 

Pressing his back against the tree, he rolled sideways, hoping to remain out of sight, but still be able to watch what was unfolding before him.

 

“Father wanted him brought directly to the city. Probably to keep him out of your clutches,” Azrael sneered. “I stalled as long as I could, but Gabriel picked today to actually be productive.”

 

“Indeed,” the taller woman agreed with mock cheerfulness. “Even Daddy was surprised.”

 

The shorter woman groaned, rolling her eyes, and pinched her brow as if warding off a sudden headache. Realization that she had likely been had sinking into her being. “What have you done now, Raziel?”

 

“My duty,” Raziel answered pointedly. Her face smoothed into impassive lines, but there was no hiding the spark of mischief in her eyes. “Which, I needn’t remind you, includes liberating souls.”  

 

“No, your duty is to guard the secrets of Creation,” Azrael corrected, her head falling back so she could glare at the sky. “Liberating souls is what you do to annoy father.”

 

Raziel stuck her hands into her billowing sleeves and rocked back on her heels. “I consider it more of bonus, actually.”

 

“Whatever, I don’t want to know, ” Azrael snapped, face twisting into a scowl. “I don’t sense anything amiss, so the soul wasn’t particularly important.”

 

“Not particularly, no,” Raziel admitted, tapping her chin with one finger. “At least not without the ones still on the mortal plane.”

 

Azrael ground her palms against her eyes, and then lowered her hands to glare a Raziel through her splayed fingers. “You know the rules.”

 

“I do indeed, dear sister,” Raziel hummed, and then smiled fondly. “Besides, I couldn’t very well deny Mars its first president.”

 

“Of course not,” Azrael clucked and crossed her arms over her chest. “Why do I have the feeling that this is going to end with me fishing you out of a volcano?”

 

“Because you’re a short, surly pessimist who thinks the worst of everyone and everything,” Raziel quipped, her eyes crinkling with her smile. “But don’t worry, I’m completely indestructible.”

 

“Not the point,” Azrael snapped, taking the obvious bait. “And it’s not pessimism, it’s realism. Father doesn’t like anyone mucking with his creation.”

 

“Yes, it would be easier if Daddy would quit being silly,” Raziel a agreed with a humming sigh. “As it is, I’m stuck using God’s own Loophole.”

 

Azrael goggled at Raziel and shook her head in disapproval.  “That doesn’t mean what you think it does.”

 

Raziel tilted her head, birdlike, and pursued her lips. “No?”

 

“No,” Azrael repeated, and plopped gracelessly on a nearby stone bench. Chewing at her bottom lip, she began fussing with one of the buckles on her bracer. She undid the fastener, and pulled the leather strap tighter, and then buckled it once more. Then she repeated the process on her other arm, never looking up to meet her sister’s eyes.  

 

“I’m leaving, Raziel,” she repeat, this time gently. “Not forever, but for a while.  A long while probably.”

 

“Leaving?” Raziel echoed, her voice tight and heavy with disbelief. “Sister, I know you’re unhappy, but--”

 

“I’m unhappy?” Azrael growled, temper flaring, and leapt up from the bench. Fist balled at her sides, she stalked back to her sister, fury echoing in every step. “You are a half-step from lopping off your wings and opening a strip club!”

 

Raziel flinched and drew back. Then, she frowned slightly, her dark brows knitting together, and lifted her shoulder and let them drop. “What’s a strip club?”

 

Azrael made a strangled sound, somewhere between groan and a shriek. She rubbed her temples with both hands, and then down her face, looking at Raziel over her fingertips. “ _ _Not__  important right now.”

 

“Nothing ever is with you,” Raziel countered bitterly. Then, all but dismissing her sister, she lifted her arms above her head and laced her fingers together. She stretched until she stood on tiptoe, pale blue wings unfurling behind her.

 

She stood in place for several seconds, wings flared and quivering, and then spun in a perfect pirouette before lowering herself to the ground.  

 

“You only dance when you’re upset,” Azrael reminded idly, watching as Raziel once again rose on tiptoe. “Or plotting something nefarious.”

 

Raziel stood with her feet in parallel lines, the heel of her left foot touching the big toe of her right. “Oh? Are you still here?” Raziel asked sardonically, and gracefully lowered her arms.  “Typical. You say you’re going to do something, but then you wait around for a better option.”  

 

Azrael flinched as if struck, but the stuck out her chin and rose from the bench. All fire and fury, she stalked up to Raziel who simply stared back at her with cold, indifferent eyes. “I’m not leaving until you tell me what happened with the fragments I brought you.”

 

Raziel curved her arms and placed her hands in front of her hips, fingers almost touching.  “Ah, and there it is.” She brought her hands up so that the tips of her fingers hovered above her navel. “I was able to halt the degradation for a while, but the fragments wouldn’t merge and eventually dissipated. What’s left wouldn’t be Uriel.”

 

Azrael ran her tongue long the bottom row of her teeth. She reached for Raziel, her fingertips skimming the taller angel’s arms and then took her hands. “It’s not your fault,” she murmured, all anger forgotten.

 

Raziel looked away, not willing to meet her sister’s eyes, and smiled a sad brittle smile. “It’s not yours either.”

 

Azrael flinched and pulled away.  When she next spoke, her voice was high and airy.  “Isn’t it? If I hadn’t been distracted, I--”

 

“He would stabbed you with this and left you for dead,” Raziel stated coldly, and pulled a small, golden blade from her sleeve. “Which in hindsight might have been a better outcome, at least for him.”

 

“Because,” Azrael began, her voice tight, and held her hand out for the blade. She stared hard at the blade for a moment, then gave it an expert twirl before handing it, hilt first, back to Raziel. “If had had attacked me here, Father would’ve glowed in disapproval or something.”

 

“Or something,” Raziel agreed, wryly, and tucked the blade back into her sleeve. She smoothed the front of her bodice before meeting Azrael’s eyes. “It’s foolish to blame yourself, little sister.”

 

“Little?” Azrael squeaked in indignation, willingly taking the bait. “I’m older than you.”

 

“We were both born before time itself, so birth order hardly matters,” Raziel drolled with a dramatic roll of her eyes. “Regardless you are shorter, and thus, the __little__  sister.”

 

“It’s called being __in proportion__ , Raziel,” Azrael insisted, with forced indignation.. “You look like a stick with boobs.”

 

Red cheeked and self conscious, Raziel hunched her shoulders forward, causing her chest to concave. “I do not!”

 

“I get muscle tone,” Azrael noted, tapping her breastplate with one armored finger. “You get tits and a fabulous ass!”

 

“It’s not that great,” Raziel began weakly, trying and failing to not look at her rear end. “Besides, my legs are far more impressive.”

 

“Yes,” Azrael drawled, giving the word a few extra syllables. “We all remembered the day those legs killed the dinosaurs.”

 

“That was an accident,” Raziel squawked, her feathers flattening as her wings rose and spread. “And you know it.”

 

Azrael stared hard at her sister, and then shook her head. She reached out slowly and tentatively ran a finger down one of Raziel’s large blue wings. Raziel jerked back with a skitter and flattened her wings against her back.  

 

“Oh, calm down,” Azrael groused, trying to hide her smirk. “If it makes you feel better, most of them did survive.” Her smirk widened into a full on grin. “Although, the humans do eat them now, so…”

 

“I have a knife, Azrael,” Raziel warned, but her threat was only half hearted. “Don’t make me summon an attendant to stab you.”

 

She locked eyes with her sister, daring her to speak, until at last Azrael sputtered. Her laughter rang out into the forest, echoing among the trees, and ended in an undignified snort.    

 

“We all thought Father was going to be so angry,” Azrael began, still breathless from laughter. “Micheal and Lucifer even planned a grand escape route for you.”

 

Raziel’s dark brows rose to her hairline. “Let me guess, it involved Lucifer stripping naked and jumping from one of the towers?”

 

“Maybe,” Azrael drawled with a sly smile, and then sighed. “But, as it turns out, Father wasn’t agree. In fact, I’d say he was pleased.”

 

“He didn’t seem pleased to me.”

 

“You scared him,” Azrael began, her eyes glassy and unseeing. “Or at least scared us. Lucifer lighting the stars was one thing, but you…” she blinked, wiping the corner of her eyes. “You should come with me.  There is nothing left for either of us here.”

 

Raziel glanced to the spot where Frank hid among the trees. They locked eyes for a moment, and then she looked back at Azrael. “If you want to leave, then go. I won’t abandon the others.”

“What others?” Azrael cried in exasperation. Her form shook with the sudden rekindling of her anger. “Lucifer is cast out. Uriel is gone. No one has heard from Raphael or Micheal in centuries. Jophiel is a moron and Gabriel is useless.”   

 

Raziel quirked a brow, her expression deadpan. “You forgot Amenadiel.”

 

“I’m trying my hardest to,” Azrael snapped.  She exhaled shakily, her huffing breaths ending in near sobs. “Raziel, please…”

 

“I’m sorry couldn’t save Uriel,” Raziel began, her eyes fixed on some distant sight. “I tried, I truly did, but his essence fought me the entire time.”

 

Azrael’s eyes widened with her gasp. Her fury forgotten, at least for the moment. “Do you know why?”

 

“No,” Raziel said simply. Then she smiled fondly, suddenly impossibly young and carefree. “Maybe he was simply done.  But I’m not. I have too much to do.”

 

“Too many stones around your neck,” Azrael countered without any real malice. “What are you going to tell the little angels? They love Uriel.”

 

Raziel inhaled and pursed her lips, then shook her head. “The truth, I suppose. They deserve that much. At least they’ll quit asking me where he’s gone.” She sucked in a shuddering teeth and bit her bottom lip. “Do you remember when he tried to teach Gazardiel how to fly?”

 

“I remember she crashed in the garden,” Azrael said with a huff that quickly turned into a glower. “And then bit me when I tried untangle her from the begonias.”

 

Raziel snickered, and then sniffed. “She wanted mother and you weren’t her.” She softly shook her head. “There was blood everywhere.”

 

“Yes, I know,” Azrael retorted, rubbing an old silvery scar near the pad of her thumb. “Most of it mine.”

 

“She skinned her knee,” Raziel reminded, ignoring Azrael’s sarcastic mouthed “Oh,” and then uttered a shaky laugh. “Uriel kept telling her.  Don’t worry Deli, I’ve seen the patterns. You’ll do fine.”

 

“Then Mum threw a lightning bolt at Father. And down Gazardiel went.”

 

Raziel laughed until her shoulders shook and her wings quivered, then winced in sympathy. “Yes, bad timing on Mummy’s part.”

 

“Among other things,” Azrael snorted, and then grew thoughtful. “I wonder how much of that __I’ve seen the patterns__  was pure nonsense?”

 

“None of it,” Raziel replied, her eyes soft and mysterious, “and all of it.”

 

Azrael rolled her eyes and resumed her pacing.  She walked a full half-circle before turning back around. “It can’t be both.”

 

“No it can’t,” Raziel agreed, pausing at Azrael’s satisfied nod, and then continued, “except when it is.”

 

“You sound like a loon,” Azrael groused, shaking her head, and then resumed her pacing. “I could feel Uriel in those fragments.  How could they simply dissipate?”  

 

“I don’t know,” Raziel answered softly, the words weighing heavy in the silence. “But, even the fragment I retrieved from Hell is dissipating. What’s left is just a spark of a spark of life.”

 

Azrael stopped in mid stride and turned on her heel. “You went to Hell,” she began incredulously, her tone very serious, almost motherly. “Alone?”

 

“Yes, alone,” Raziel confirmed with a sarcastic goggle of her eyes.  She jabbed both thumbs in the direction of her chest. “Dinosaur killer, remember?”

 

“How could you be so foolish?” Azrael chastised, more worried than angry, and shook her head in disbelief. “You could’ve been trapped down there!”

 

“Doubtful,” Raziel answered after a long, thoughtful moment. “No one finds me unless I want them to.”

 

“Look,” Azrael began, calmer now, her motherly tone returning. “I know you’re far more powerful than you pretend. Powerful enough to purposely annoy Father on a regular basis and not worry about the consequences.”

 

“Maybe, I’m an idiot,” Raziel suggested with a shrug of her shoulders.  “Ever think of that?”

 

“Quite often, actually,” Azrael countered, and then quickly sobered. “But, no. You purposely annoy Father because you love him. And I think he realizes that.”  

 

It was Raziel’s turn to glower and cross her arms over her chest.  If she meant to look menacing, she failed miserably, and instead merely looked petulant. “And petty revenge.”

 

“ _ _And__  petty revenge,” Azrael repeated, her tone kind, but her patience obviously strained. “All I’m saying is that you need to be careful. There is no one left to save you if you need help. Amenadiel has been stripped of his power. Raphael has never been good in a fight, and that’s assuming we could even find him. Involving Lucifer would endanger countless humans, and Micheal--”

 

“Micheal is in Florida.” Raziel sidestepped out of Azrael’s reach, and turned on her heel. “Well, not for much longer. He’ll be gone before you could arrive, so don’t bother.” She breathed a sort of dreamy sigh.  “He makes the best funnel cakes.”

 

“What are you babbling about?”

 

“Oh, they’re delightful!” Raziel began with a delighted squeal and clasped her hands together. “But don’t worry, they’re not made of actual funnels, like I first thought. Humans aren’t that strange--”

 

“Not the funnel cakes, you loon,” Azrael interjected with obvious strained patience. “When did you find Micheal?”

 

“I’ve always known where he was,” Raziel said simply. She blew out a breath, blowing stray curls from her face. “Raphael too. ”

 

“We’ve looked for them,” Azrael reminded, shaking her head in disbelief. “All of us.”  

# “We dance round in a ring and suppose,” Raziel murmured, in a singsong tone, a slight smile curling at her lips. “but the Secret sits in the middle and knows.”

“Let me guess,” Azrael began, more than a little put upon. “You have Robert Frost bunking with your assassins.”

 

“Attendants,” Raziel corrected, waggling a long finger. “And, no, he has his own room. Feel free to stop by. He adores company.”

 

Azrael’s only reply was a steely gaze.

 

“Oh, fine,” Raziel grumbled after a long moment. She fussed with her sleeves, tugging at their long laces, and ran a hand down her bodice before she continued. “Micheal came to me after the rebellion. He told me that he was done following Father’s orders. A bit like you, actually.”

 

“That doesn’t surprise me,” Azrael replied fondly, ignoring the later half of her sister’s statement. “He always loved you the most.”

 

Raziel shook her head. “No, he loves Lucifer the most.”

 

“Yeah,” Azrael almost spat, and then sighing, her frustration ebbing as she spoke. “He’s reckless, thoughtless, but not an idiot, so bonus.  He causes so many problems, and yet, he’s still The __Lightbringer__.”

 

“Not really problems, exactly.” Raziel was crying now, silent, heartbroken tears that she quickly wiped away. “He’s just….”

 

“No, I think they’re really problems,” Azrael finished, fighting back a sniffle with a forced smile. “But, it’s Lucifer, so whatever.”  

 

“Yeah,” Raziel replied with a sniff and managed a watery smile. “At least until he accidentally causes the apocalypse.”

 

Even yards away, Frank could feel sudden bubble of warmth between the two sisters. It bubbled in his chest and tingled down his spine until he felt safe, loved, and yet, sadly, utterly miserable.  

 

“Kids,” he murmured, not caring if the angels might hear him.  He rubbed his chest, fingers brushing where he had been shot. “It’s not so bad as that. You just have to have faith.”

 

Faith was in short supply, it seemed, even in heaven.  Then without warning, the warmth ebbed and flowed, slowly turning into confusion, fear, and then nothing.  

 

“No, no, no,” he chanted, the words becoming a litany. Frightened, his words ended in a cry. “What have you two done?”  

 

Springing to his feet, he bolted towards the clearing. Low hanging branches and the underbrush whipped at him, snagging his clothes, but he continued undeterred.  The scant few yards between him and the clearing never seemed so far.  

Stumbling, he skid to a stop in the now empty clearing.  Its sole occupants a stone bench and a trio of statues. The angels were no where to be found.

 

His eyes widened at the sight that greeted him just beyond the bench and statues. Down a long natural archway of trees, no more than a hundred yards away was a great silver gate.  Frank gaped for a moment, his skin prickling. Had he truly been so close?

 

He took a step toward the gate, elation sufficing his being. Then, he paused and looked over his shoulder. Something nagged at him as he viewed the empty clearing.  Unable to simply walk away, he ambled over to the bench and collapsed more than sat down.  The weariness of his days walk suddenly upon him.

 

“Hello?” he called out tentatively, only to hear his own voice echo back at him. “Azrael?  Raziel?”

 

Once again, he was answered by his own voice echoing back to him through the trees. Tension rising, he leaped to his feet and began to pace. Perhaps if he simply waited, someone else would come to the clearing.

 

Minutes turned into a full hour, then two, and he realize no one would come. Belatedly, he wondered why he considered waiting in the first place. It was utterly unlike him.

 

Staring hard at the gate, he willed it to open. In his mind’s eye, he imagined the city and its stately towers. Perhaps he could find help there, that is, assuming the angelic sisters needed help at all.

 

He rose from the bench, and took a small step forward. Once again something explained niggled at him.  A persistent, not quite voice, that railed against all reason, and bade him to go no further.

 

“Right,” he acquiesced, breathing out through his nose. “God helps those who help themselves, so what do I do?”

 

He turned around in place, uncertain what to do next or if there was even anything that needed to be done. Then, just as he was about to give up, the tower, his beacon among beacons, pulse. It flared, brighter than any star, and bathed the forest in pure, perfect light.

 

Grunting and shielding his eyes with one hand, he backed slowly into the tree line. The tower dimmed as quickly as it flared, casting a long shadow over the forest. Frank looked up at the now dim and silent tower, wonder what it, or more accurately its resident, was trying to tell him. He stood for a long moment, simply staring up at the tower.  Then, out of the corner of his eye, he noticed something glowing softly on the ground.

 

Half running, he made his way to the object.  He dropped to a squat and stared down at a pale blue feather.  Fingers trembling, he reverently picked up the feather and cradled it close to his chest.

 

He rose to his feet just as someone crashed through the underbrush into the clearing.  

 

“There you are!” Ellie chirped, and then rolled head over feet to land cross legged before him. “I’ve been looking everywhere for you. Well, not everywhere, but around. Anyway, Gabriel says I should--”

 

Ellie paled, her cheeky grin turning to a look of horror when she saw the feather in his hands.  “Where did you get--” she reached out, but then jerked back as if burned. “That’s Raziel’s.”

 

He shifted the feather to one hand, noticing for the first time the tiny flecks of blood along its vane.  “I….” then he felt a peculiar sensation. It was the same feeling he had had when he first met Lucifer. The sensation that told him with absolute certain that the charming British man was actually….”You’re an angel.”

 

Ellie rose to her feet with an unearthly grace. Her childish form shimmered before his eyes, transforming into a young woman of no more than twenty. Wings, the yellow-pink of dawn, unfurled from her back, and then folded neatly against her spine.

 

“Yes,” she answered coolly, her childlike silliness gone. “But not one of the important ones, so don’t get excited.”

 

She plucked the feather from his hands, and rolled it between her long fingers. Piano playing fingers, his grandmother would have called them. She pressed the feather to her lips, inhaling its scent.

 

“She’s hurt,” she whispered, not intending to speak out loud.  She licked her lips, a nervous gesture, and turned to stare hard at Frank. “I am Gazardiel.”

 

“I’ve heard a bit about you,” Frank began lightly, trying to ease the tension. “From your, uh, sisters.”

 

“You mean while you eavesdropped,” Gazardiel muttered, giving him a sidelong look. “Don’t worry, I do it too.”

She closed her eyes and began to mumbled beneath her breath in a language Frank could not understand. Then, she opened her eyes and breathed an exasperated sigh. “Nothing, as always.”

 

Then, realization came over the angel and she turned back to Frank. “You said sisters.”

 

Frank jumped, but recovered quickly. “Raziel met Azrael here.”

 

Gazardiel seemed to digest the information for a moment, her head swaying back and forth as she considered various options. She met Frank’s eyes.  Something in her gaze caused him to grow deathly still.

 

Outwardly, they seemed normal. The same hazel green as Ellie’s had been. “You can change shape?”   

 

“It’s my gift,” she explained. “I was originally intended to be an assassin, but that was before Mother and Father lost interest in us.”

 

She tilted her head and scrutinized Frank for a long moment. “You’re the first mortal to ask me about my gift. Most simply go through the gate the moment they see it.”  

 

Frank toed the ground with his foot, and then looked back at the young angel. “I admit, I thought about it. But something seemed wrong, so I turned back and that’s when I found the feather.”

 

“I see,” Gazardiel drew out, although she truly didn’t “Was that before or after Samael’s tower awoke?”

 

Confused, Frank looked up at the tower, and then back at Gazardiel. “Samael?”

 

“Lucifer, if you prefer,” she supplied, giving the tower a backwards nod. “My older brother, Mr. Noun-Verb himself.”

 

Frank sputtered, looked up at the tower, and then back helplessly at Gazardiel.  

 

“You’re not going to hell, if that’s what you’re worried about,” she huffed, and then relented, shaking her head. “Remember when I told you that the towers belong to the angels?”

 

Frank nodded, the wheels of his mind whirling. “But Lucifer has been cast from heaven.”

“To put it prosaically, yes,” Gazardiel replied dryly. “Raziel has this theory. She believes that if enough souls want to spend their afterlives with Lucifer that he we be welcomed back regardless of Father’s wishes.”  

 

She hook her head, her frustration returning. “But it’s just a theory. Raziel has literally thousands of them. What did my sisters talk about?”

 

“Azrael told Raziel she was leaving, and then, the two got into an argument,” he replied truthfully, purposely leaving out the more intimate details. “Could they have more than argued?”

 

“You mean fought?” Gazardiel shrugged, “Maybe, we angels do argue quite often, and sometimes it does come to blows.”

 

Frank smiled encouragingly. “Brothers and sisters do that.”

 

Gazardiel nodded, but her expression was dubious. She relaxed and tried to put on a brave front.  It was almost believable. “So, maybe it was nothing. I’ll check their towers to be sure. But first.”  

 

She smiled sweetly and looked Frank in the eye. “Normally, Uriel would give you a welcome speech before sending you through the gates, but I think you’ve been delayed long enough.”

 

She snapped her fingers and his world erupted into white light.

 

“No, wait!” he cried, his words dying as the last of the light faded. Looking around, he found himself in the middle of a breathtakingly beautiful city. He stood, awestruck, breathing in the crisp air as all his troubles and toils began to drift from him.  

 

“No, no, no,” he began in a panicked litany, the image of blue, blood stained feathers flashing in his mind. He tried to call out to Gazardiel, to warn her, to tell her there was something terribly wrong. He looked to the towers, and found them no closure than they were when he was still outside the city.

 

He looked to the tower he knew now once belong to Lucifer, and prayed for a sign. Then he heard a sound like tiny silver bells followed by a laugh he hadn’t heard in ten years. A little girl with skin the color of warm cinnamon bounded toward him.

 

“Daddy!” she cried, grabbing his waist and holding him tight as she could. “Did the blue winged lady bring you here too?”


	2. Chapter Two

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter took far longer than I intended, and also ended up far longer. So, long in fact that I ended up pushing a huge chunk to chapter 3. I'll more than likely end up combining and editing later but wanted to post something before this fic became lost in the abyss of my unfinished fanfiction.

Frank pawed at his face, grimacing at the silvery light pouring in through his window. Lucifer’s tower was glowing again, or perhaps still. He had no way of knowing for certain. The tower called to him, beckoning, with warm light and gentle music. He tried to answer its call, but no matter how long he walked through the twisted streets of The Silver City, he found himself no closer.

His daughter, who hadn’t left his side since he entered the city, crawled across the bed to lay on top of him. She cradled her chin in her palms, her elbows digging into his chest, and stared down at him with eyes too wise for her childish face.

He traced a finger down her chubby cheek, not quite believing she was truly there. “Marlene.”

Marlene pursed her lips and then rolled to sit cross-legged beside him. “You’re sad.”

Frank settled back among the pillows and lolled his head sideways to look out the room’s small window. Shades of yellow and pink seeped through dark velvet of the starless night sky. He was suddenly reminded of Gazardiel’s wings.

Dark purple closest to her spine where the down feathers were thickest, then lightening to blue and pink. The pink lightened down the lengths of her longest feathers until each was tipped with pale sunlight yellow. He turned back to Marlene and eyed her from head to toe.

Chubby-cheeked, yet skinny as a flagpole, she was exactly as he remembered her. Her full lips and pointed chin were all from his ex-wife, while her long delicate fingers were his. But the eyes, Marlene’s eyes, they were different and spoke of something other than simple wisdom beyond her years.

“I’m not sad,” he whispered, focusing inward and outward, searching for any sign that Marlene was more than she appeared. There was nothing. No slight tingle, no pressure behind his eyes, no anything to suggest the girl sitting beside him on the bed was anything but his child.

Marlene peered at him curiously, but then shrugged and flopped backward on the bed. “If you say so.”

She remained there for a moment, staring up at the ceiling, and then followed his gaze out the window. The dawn gave way to early morning, muting the eastern tower’s silvery light. “Was the lady with the blue wings really an angel?”

Frank nodded jerkily, only half listening. It was hard to concentrate. His mind was foggy, and he felt disjointed. Almost if he had wandered into a place he didn’t belong, and yet, couldn’t bring himself to leave.

Marlene sat up and rested her elbows on her knees. “I didn’t know angels could be girls.”

He gave her a forbidding look, baiting her as he did when they were both among the living. “I didn’t know girls could be angels.”

Marlene rolled her eyes skyward and then huffed a dramatic sigh. “Girls are the best angels.”

Frank drew his legs up, and then, sat up mirroring Marlene. He leaned forward until their foreheads nearly touched. “Bet they spoil you rotten.”

Marlene gave him a sly, sideways look, and then stuck out her tongue. He reached out his thumb and index finger pinching together, causing her to squeak and roll away.

She bounded off the bed, her toes digging into the shag carpet. Eyes on him, she grinned and rocked back on her heels. Ready to bolt should he make a move. “Nope.”

Rolling out of bed, he planted both feet on the ground, then moved toward Marlene in mock menace. He lumbered forward, his fingers wiggling toward her ribs. She squeaked and then giggled as she ran toward the bathroom door. 

With her hand on the knob, she twisted around to grin at him and waggle a finger. “No tickling!”

He took a slow step towards her, and then another, suddenly feeling happier than he had in days. Marlene squeaked and twisted her body along the door, shielding her ribcage, but made no effort to flee. Frank lunged with a playful growl, fingers wiggling, but before he could reach her there was a sharp rap on the door.

He traded looks with his daughter, who simply shrugged and went to answer the front door. Frank grabbed her arm and pulled her behind him just a second knock rang against the door.

“Frank Lawrence?” called a man from the other side. He knocked again, punctuating his words with insistent raps. “I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

Frank frowned, eyeing the door as if he could see the person on the other side. The man had the no-nonsense tone of a police officer, but with a thin thread of worry. He wondered briefly if the man’s arrival had anything to do with the sudden departures of Azrael and Raziel.

The doorknob jiggled, startling Frank and drawing his attention back to his visitor.

“Just a minute,” Frank called, shooing Marlene into the bathroom. He shook his head and pressed a finger to his lips, bidding her to be quiet.

Marlene nodded, her eyes as wide as saucers, and sat down on the tattered bathroom rug.  “Daddy?”

Frank paused, struck with a sudden realization. He was in his old apartment. Not the one he had lived in as a priest, but the one he moved into right after he split up with his wife. Marlene would visit him on the weekends and the summers when she wasn’t in school. They used to curl up together on the bed and watch movies until dawn. Heaven, or at least this area, seemed crafted from his memories.

Closing the bathroom door behind him, Frank walked back to the center of the room and breathed deeply through his nostrils. He could feel the tension wafting from behind the door. Whomever was on the other side was growing impatient.

He walked to the front door and reached out, his fingers hovering over the knob for a long moment. Then, his hand shot out and wrenched open the door.

Startled, the man on the other side jumped back, his hand still balled into a fist as if he were caught mid-knock. He recovered quickly, sheepishly uncurling his fist to run it through his sandy hair. “Frank Lawrence? I’m John. John Decker. I’d like to ask you a few questions.”

“Decker?” Frank repeated, shaking the other man’s hand, taking the man’s outstretched hand. “I met a Detective Decker right before, well…”

John nodded in sympathy and struggled to keep from smiling. “My little monkey, she…” His smile faltered, fading from his lips before ever reaching his eyes. He studied his feet for a moment, gathering his thoughts, and then looked back at Frank. “You met my daughter Chloe.”

Frank made a little humming sound low in his throat and nodded mostly to himself. John smoothed his expression to neutral lines, but there was no hiding the strain around his eyes. He was working a puzzle in his mind. Pressing pieces together in hopes they would stick only to have them fall apart the moment it looked like they would stick. Frank knew the feeling. He had felt it since he arrived.  

John scratched the back of his head, then abruptly stepped back from the doorway and into the hall. The yellow linoleum floor creaked beneath his boots as he shifted his weight from one foot to the other. He nodded once and turned, hands stuck in his pockets. “I’ll give you a few minutes.”

Without another word, John walked away toward the elevators at the end of the hall. Back in San Francisco where this building existed, the elevators were always out of order and he was forced to use the stair. He didn’t particularly mind. Sometimes he would skip his floor entirely to go up on the roof to look out over the city. On those days, his bandmates would join him, and they would drink and smoke and play music until the sun began to peak out over the city skyline. Then Marlene died, and his world turned upside down.

John stopped at the end of the hall and reached out to call the elevator. It answered with a cheerful ping but didn’t open. Frank smiled, feeling a rush of fond nostalgia, but then gasped as the hallway began to change around him. The yellow floor melted away to reveal a city street as the walls faded to reveal a quiet suburban neighborhood. An old rope swing hung from a large tree at the end of the street. He knew this place, but he couldn’t quite remember from where. Above the tree line, the ever-present towers loomed in the distance.

Frank took a small step out the door, catching himself on the door frame when he inexplicably stumbled. One hand on the doorjamb, he toed the door’s threshold with one foot. It moved slightly, but then, before he could investigate further, the threshold morphed into a curb with an attached storm drain.

Warmth rushed over him, winding around his form, filling him with a strange sort of calm. A calm that came from faith, from the knowledge that somehow everything would turn out for the best. There was a flash of silvery light, almost like a camera flash, from the eastern tower and the feeling faded. He frowned up at the tower. “There’s something wrong. Is that what you’re trying to tell me?”

The tower glowed softly but gave no response.  

Down at the end of the street, John leaned up against the tree. He reached out and gave the swing a little nudge, watching as it began to sway.  Back and forth, back and forth, the branch above creaking as if burdened by some unseen weight. The swing rose in a high arc, then swooped down, and when it rose again Gazardiel was seated on the wooden seat.

Not in her “Ellie” persona, but in her true angelic form.  Her dawn colored wings vanishing as she leaned back, pulling on the ropes of the swing. Hanging almost upside down in the swing, she looked up at John and waved at him with one foot.

He pretended not to notice her, crossing his arms over his broad chest, and whistling at the sky. The angel huffed in annoyance and sat up in the swing clearly disappointed. Hands griping the ropes, she lazily pumped her legs propelling herself in the swing. She swung back and forth, the creaking branch the only sound in the otherwise silent neighborhood.

Frank watched them, almost mesmerized, until he jumped back startled at the sound of a door opening and closing behind him. He whipped around to find Marlene staring up at him from the doorway with wide, wary eyes. “Are you in trouble?”

Frank blinked in surprise, and then stepped forward, reaching for his daughter. “No,” he soothed, running an uncertain finger down her cheek. “Why would you think that?”

Marlene shrugged with one shoulder, her eyes darting to the pair beneath the tree. “The Erelim are here.”

Frank frown and followed his daughter’s gaze to the pair beneath the tree. He watched as John pushed away from the tree and moved to stand behind the girl. John gave the angel a light push, propelling the swing forward, and then another when she swung back towards him. “You mean John?”

Marlene shrugged again, her shoulder brushing her ear. She looked over her shoulder out the window of tiny apartment to where the eastern tower glowed brightly on the horizon. “I guess.”

Frank stared at the tower through the window, and then looked over his shoulder to see it peeking out through the tree line. “The Erelim,” he whispered, rolling the word on his tongue. Azrael had referred to Raziel’s attendants as _assassins._ Could those same attendants be the Erelim?   

He looked back at Marlene who huffed and rolled her eyes at him. Her wariness all but forgotten. “You’re thinking too hard again.”

“Yeah, I am,” he admitted, and pulled his daughter into a quick hug. “I have to go uh… Will you be okay while I’m gone?”

Marlene shot him a look that was half deadpan and all sass. She tilted her head, looking him up and down, then bent to grab her shoes from under the bed. “I’ll go bother Delilah for a bit.”

The name sounded familiar for some reason, but before he could ask, Marlene vanished. Tentatively, he reached out to where she had stood and moved his hand through the air. She was gone without a trace. Disappeared utterly just as Gazardiel had in the crossroads.

Another mystery in a land of mysteries decided, filing it away for later. He looked at the eastern tower, or rather felt it looking at him. “Yeah, I do have more to do.” He quirked a small grin at the tower. “And hopefully more to annoy.”

He stepped out of the door. It closed behind him and vanished, depositing him on the leaf strewn street. The morning breeze held the crispness of autumn with a slight scent of cinnamon and clove.

Memories of his grandmother flowed through him wafting with the cinnamon and cloves. He could see her little gray head poke out her kitchen window, could hear her voice calling him.  “Francis Aaron Lawrence.”

Always by his full name, not Frank as he preferred. He shortened it to Frank when he was older, but to her he was always Francis. Was she here somewhere in this labyrinth of ever changing streets? Would he turn a corner and find her sitting at her table sipping her tea of cinnamon and cloves? Would she cluck at him with exasperated affection?

He hoped so.

The creaking of the rope swing growing louder as approached the pair at the end of the street.  John had moved behind Gazardiel, and every so often would give her slight push on the swing. Prior to his death, he could say without hesitation that he was neither a gossip or an eavesdropper. Now, however, it seemed to be almost second nature.

He saw Gazardiel tilt her head completely back to lock eyes with John and slowed his pace. The neighborhood was silent save for the creaking on the swing, so if he strained he could probably hear snatches of their conversation. Sure enough, Gazardiel’s soft, accented voice drifted on the breeze. Her voice was higher than he remembered, almost airy, and filled with a naked plea.

“You’re sure she didn’t say anything?” Gazardiel asked, and from John’s reaction, it wasn’t the first time. “She wouldn’t have left without telling anyone.”

John barked a laugh and shook his head, his shoulders shaking with feigned mirth. “You have met Raziel, haven’t you?”

Gazardiel pressed a foot against the ground, stopping the swing. She blew at a breath from between her pursed lips. It was loud in the relative silence beneath the tree and fill with more pain than irreverence. “She would’ve at least told you.”

“Doubt it, monkey,” John quipped and tossed Frank as he drew closer. “Her Ladyship’s wanderings are above my paygrade.”

Gazardiel looked at John thoughtfully, not quite certain if he was serious. Her eyes were a touch too large for her face, giving her an almost doll-like quality. Frank smiled to himself. He could just almost picture her perched atop a Christmas tree.

“Raziel doesn’t pay the Erelim.”

“Don’t I know it,” John quipped with a teasing smirk and extended a hand to her. She stared at it for a moment, then grinned and bounded out of the swing with a single leap It swung cockeyed with the motion, hitting the trunk of the tree just as Gazardiel landed neatly on her feet.

“Show off,” John muttered affectionately and gently shoved at one of her wings. He sputtered, sticking out his tongue, and wiped at his chin. “Are your feathers supposed to taste like cabbage?”

She rolled her shoulders, drawing her wings close to her body where they disappeared in an instant. “Yes.”

Frank stepped up on the curb in time to see John’s face redden in a failing attempt to stifle a laugh. He paused in mid-step to truly look at the other man. He wasn’t particularly old, nor young. Perhaps in his late thirties with blonde hair and bright blue eyes. There was an easiness to his demeanor a casual warmth that made him appear wholly trustworthy.  Frank only hoped that it too wasn’t simply an illusion.

He was pulled from his ponderings by a loud groan. Jerking his head up, he locked eyes with Gazardiel who sighed and rubbed at her brow with one flailing hand. “He’s thinking again.”

Startled, Frank looked at her and then John who shrugged. Gazardiel stepped towards him, her pants billowing as she moved, and pressed two fingers to her lips. “Hold still,” she whispered and pressed her fingertips to his forehead.

His thoughts slowed, and his mind cleared. He felt refreshed, renewed as if he had just been reborn in the first rays of dawn. “What did you...?”

Gazardiel’s eyes met his as she lowered her hand. They weren’t hazel as he first thought, but a color closer to amber or gold. “I can’t undo another angel’s blessing, but I can fix it so it’s not so annoying.”

Frank looked at her confused, his mouth suddenly dry. His thoughts now clear, he remembers and sees his past life not as memories, but as a treasured archive. He remembered Lucifer at his piano, their burgeoning friendship, and then he’s on the floor and the devil wills him to live.

“Blessings aren’t always intentional,” Gazardiel answered his unspoken question. “Sometimes they just happen.”

“Why?”

“Bad parenting,” John muttered, breaking his silence. He had returned to his place against the tree, arms crossed once more over his broad chest. Then he seemed to consider for a moment and sighed. “Never mind. I have a rule about bad mouthing someone in front of their kid. Especially when they’re God.”

“What he means to say,” she said pointedly, and then seemed to consider a moment. She straightened to her full height and lifted her chin. “Father never wanted children, but he had them to make Mother happy. So, he ignores us in hopes we blow ourselves up.”

John looked down at his feet, his eyes squeezing shut as if he were in pain. “That’s not true, Monkey.”

Gazardiel’s face twisted and for a moment it looked like she was going to cry. She made a little gasping sound, her frame shuddering. Then, she blinked, and her face smoothed back into impassive lines. She barked a laugh, but it was bitter and wet with the tears she refused to shed. “Is so. But Father is Father. I bear him no ill will for it.”

John grunted something beneath his breath while rubbing his spine up and down the tree trunk. He opened and closed his mouth twice to speak, but both times seemed to think better of it.

He looked over the angel’s head to meet Frank’s eyes. He eyed him for a moment. He wanted to apologize to the priest, but he wasn’t sure how or for what. Instead, he simply gave him an empty, half-grimace that almost passed for a smile. “That’s crap. He’s God.”

The angel laughed, a soft melodic giggle, like chimes in a windstorm. She plopped back in the swing, the motion propelling her slightly. “Raziel says there is no such thing as gods.”

“That’s our Raziel,” John sighed dryly, willing to allow her to change the subject to what was likely an equally difficult topic. “Our resident angelic atheist.”

Gazardiel made a little humming sound low in her throat, her lips twisting into a small smile. “And she killed the dinosaurs.”

“Not all of them,” Frank reminded, a little too loudly, desperate to interject himself into the conversation. “Some of them are chickens now.”

Gazardiel paused thoughtfully and looped her hands around the ropes on either side of her. “I was young when that happened, so I really don’t remember.”

She lifted her legs, allowing the swing to carry her forward. The limb creaked above her as she drifted back and forth. “Raziel wouldn’t just leave, but I’m not surprised Azrael left,” she admitted after a long moment, stilling herself in the swing once more. “She hates everything.”

John clenched his jaw slightly but said nothing. So, few understood Azrael, and even fewer bothered to try. The Angel of Death was a wild creature, willing shackled by love and duty. Every soul that had ever existed, that would ever exist, was known to her. And she had named them all.

 _I knew you before you were you, John Decker,_ she had said to him while his body still lay cooling on the floor. _For what it’s worth, I’m sorry._

 _It’s…it’s okay,_ he had stammered, barely able to believe that there was an honest to, well, god, angel standing before him. _I lived a good life and…Chloe, I was supposed to pick her up after class._

 _No,_ she had said, confused and reached out to take his hand. _I was about to tell you ‘sorry, about Uriel’s welcome speech,’ it’s long and boring…but it’s strange that you worry about your daughter. You should be beyond mortal concerns now.”_

 _What can I say?_ he had said, confused and a bit wary, but willing to take her hand regardless. It was soft, but strong, he remembered, and just a little bit bony. _I’m a weirdo._

She smirked a little at that and then took him to crossroads. He met Uriel and endured the infamous welcome speech. Or rather, he would have, had Raziel not kidnapped him halfway through the middle. He could still remember the look on Uriel’s face as Raziel snatched him away like a hawk with a field mouse.

They flew over the city, him nestled in her arms like a baby, and buzzed a nearby tower before setting down on the edge of a cliff. She turned to him, her eyes smiling, a single finger placed coyly on her lips, and said, _Greetings, fellow weirdo._

The world tilted sideways, but Raziel caught him before he fell and lowered them both to the grass. There with her long limbs wrapped around him and his head on her shoulder, she told him of plans, hers and her father’s, and miracles spawned of miracles.

There was much he didn’t know, and even more he wished he didn’t.

 _You’re special, John Decker, more so than you know._ She turned her hand over, palm up, to reveal a small silver coin. _So, I offer you a choice._

He reached out, his fingertips just brushing the coin before drawing away. He met her gaze, her dark eyes bright and glittering. _And if I join you, you promise to help Chloe?_

 _No,_ Raziel answered softly, her fingers slightly curling over the coin. _I’m going to help her regardless._

It didn’t take long for Uriel to find them. His tan wings cast a shadow over the cliff as he tried his best to not look completely pleased with himself. _You may be able to hide from the patterns, sister,_ he tutted, his head twitching, his fingers just short of waggling. _But the mortal is—_

_Is one of my Erelim now._

John pulled the coin from his pocket, barely aware of the conversation still raging around him. He didn’t want to think of Uriel, who until the moment he tried to kill Chloe, had been an almost friend. Nor did he wish to think of Uriel’s killer, who was the devil and his almost son-in-law. Instead, he focused on the coin, rolling it around on his knuckles until it came to rest on his palm.  

On one side was a base relief carving of a woman holding a torch in each hand. On the other was an inscription written in a circular pattern. It was the names of all the Erelim, starting with Tabitha, the first of the order, and ending with his own.

“So,” Gazardiel drew out, swinging her arms at her side before brining them up the clasp her fists together. “Are you going to question him, or not?”

Sagging slightly, he shoved the coin back into his front pocket and pushed away from the tree. He had been dreading questioning the priest. No one truly suspected the priest had anything to do with Raziel’s sudden disappearance, which left Gazardiel as his only suspect. “Yes, but not with you here.”

“What? Why not?” she railed, her twisting, and stomped her foot for good measure. “No, I need to be here.

John pushed away from the tree and swiped at his shoulders, brushing way unseen lint. “Take it up with Gabriel.”

“The Erelim doesn’t take orders from Gabriel,” she hissed, her hands flexing at her sides as if she meant to strangle someone. Then, she faltered, the fury in her eyes turned to pleading. “John, please.”

John softened, just a fraction. “I’m sorry, but it is what it is,” he murmured and reached out to touch her cheek only to have her jerk away. “Gabriel said to blame him if you got mad.”

Gazardiel locked eyes with Frank, glaring at him for a moment, and then sagged in defeat. “I should’ve known you wouldn’t believe me.”

Then, without another word, she disappeared.

John groaned and rubbed a hand down the length of his face. “Well, that could’ve ended better.”

Frank, up until now, silent and forgotten, stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with John who continued to stare to the spot Gazardiel had stood. “She’ll come around.”

John began chewing on the inside of his cheek but nodded thoughtful. “Yeah.”

“You two seem close,” Frank coaxed, attempting to seem casual, but then just as quickly backed off. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry.”

John laughed, a short pattering sound that was almost devoid of all humor. “Yeah, you did.” He shrugged, dismissing Frank’s apology before it was even offered. “I used to be a cop. So, I know when a suspect is fishing for information. Not that you’re a suspect exactly.”

Frank managed a genuine smile. “It was just an observation,” he half-lied, and then rocked back on his heels. “But, yeah, I was fishing.”

John walked passed him to plop gracelessly into Gazardiel’s swing. “Tell you what,” John offered, leaning heavily against one of the ropes. “You have questions. Ask away. I’ll answer if I can.”

“What about your investigation?” Frank asked with a frown. “Raziel and Azrael could be in danger.”

“Azzie told everyone that would listen that she was leaving,” John explained, ignoring Frank’s raised eyebrows. “And Gabriel confirmed that she passed her duties to him until she returned. Besides, your questions will tell me as much as your answers. Maybe more.”

“I see,” Frank said with a small nod. He didn’t, not really, but he wasn’t going to pass up the chance at answers. Not when John seemed, not only willing, but trustworthy. “What are the Erelim?”

John didn’t answer for a moment, seeming to weigh his words. “Depends on who you ask. Officially, we’re Raziel’s advisors and bodyguards.” He sucked in a breath through his teeth. Unofficially, we’re, uh…”

“Assassins?” Frank offered a bit too eagerly. He started to walk back his words in response to John’s surprised, walleyed stare, but the other man simply shook his head.

“Housekeepers,” John shot back, so deadpan it was impossible to tell if he were serious. “Angels produce a lot of dander. Raziel especially.”

“Angel dander?” Frank repeated to which John shrugged, a simple lift of his shoulders, as if it were the most normal thing in the world. Deciding to let it go, at least for the moment, he asked the first thing that came to his mind. “Does this have anything to do with Lucifer?”

“Naw, the Devil is hypoallergic,” John chirped back with a crooked grin, and then grew serious. “But seriously, which this? This Raziel’s disappearance or this your situation?”

Frank gaped for a moment, his mouth opening and closing like a fish. “Both.”

“Then, yes,” John answered, leaning back in the swing once more. “After your death, you ended up in limbo. And before you ask, it had nothing to do with you as a person. It just happens sometimes unless Azrael personally brings your soul to the city.”

He looked up at Frank, pausing in he had questions. The priest’s face was stony, held in rapt attention, and seemed content to simply listen.

“Time moves differently from plane to plane, so I’m not sure how long you were there. Long enough that you were trapped when Raziel closed the gates.”

Frank shook his head in horror. “There are hundreds of people there. Why would she trap them?”

John looked away, his jaw working. It was obvious he was not entirely happy with the reason. “She was trying to revive Uriel.”

Frank frowned, dread pooling in the pit of his stomach. He feared he knew the answer to his next question. “What does that have to do with Lucifer?”

“Lucifer killed Uriel to protect my daughter,” John answered, breathing an angry breath through his nose. “I’m not sure how I really feel about it, but he’s her brother, so I try to understand.”

The bottom of Frank’s stomach fell to his feet, but he tried not to outwardly react. Lucifer was a great deal many things, but never once did Frank consider that he could be a killer. Uriel’s threat must have been grave indeed.

Frank laid a hand on John’s shoulder. It was a comforting gesture, a priest gesture. “I’m sorry, son.”

“Yeah,” he murmured, biting back a sarcastic retort, but then decided a little self-depreciation was in order. “I guess that’s what happens when the devil is your son-in-law.”  

“That and you get really ugly grandkids,” replied Gabriel’s voice, a split second before the angel himself appeared. “You humans like to say there is no such thing as an ugly baby, but that’s so not true.”

John shot Gabriel a look that almost passed for wary humor. “You’re full of it, Gabe,” he began, waiting for the inevitable punchline. He just hoped this time it wasn’t at his expense. “Chloe was a beautiful baby.”

“Yes, yes, adorable. All pink and…pink,” Gabriel said, grinning at John’s warning glare. “I’m talking about Lucifer.”

John looked at Frank, then sighed and covered his face with his hands. “I thought angels only cared about the beauty of a person’s soul.”

Gabriel tutted, his shoulder’s slumping in mock disappointment. “That’s just what we say to ugly people. But yes, you’re right. Who cares if Lucifer was so ugly that Mum didn’t know which end to swaddle?” He grinned. “Worse, he and Michael are twins so there were two of the ugly fuckers running around.”

John pinched the bridge of his nose and nodded toward Frank. “Don’t curse in front of a priest.”

Gabriel straightened, his manner growing serious, as if he was suddenly aware that he and John were not alone. He spun on his heel to look directly at Frank. The seriousness quickly faded, only to be replaced with more than a little cheek. “Oh! It’s you. Sorry about the whole gate in your face thing.”

“No, you’re not,” John muttered beneath his breath, and crossed his arms over his chest. “He’s also the last person to see Raziel.”

At that, Gabriel sobered, a thoughtful expression flowing over his face. He stared hard at Frank, locking eyes with the priest until he squirmed and looked away.

As the old saying goes, ‘The eyes are the windows to the soul.’ Distantly, Frank wondered if the saying still applied to him. He was now simply just a soul. A soft, almost hysterical, chuckle escaped his throat as a thought sprang into his mind. He was a soul without a window. “I’ll help however I can.”

“I know everyone thinks I’m a nonsense,” Gabriel stated, his words rolling around on his tongue. He tapped Frank on the chin, coaxing him to meet his gaze once more. “And usually that’s the way I like it.”

“I don’t think you’re a nonsense,” Frank gasped, suddenly warier than he had ever been. “You’re actually kind of famous where I’m from.”

Gabriel snorted and rolled his eyes before taking a full step away from Frank. “And suddenly, I understand Raziel’s disdain for religion. Just to be clear, most of the stories you’ve heard about me are complete rubbish. So, it’s good you got out when you did.”

John groaned and barely resisted the urge to smack himself on the forehead. Gabriel spent much of his time observing humanity. In theory, that should have made him more accustomed to dealing with humanity.  And for the most part it did. Except, for the random times he simply said the first thing that popped into his mind because it suited him. “He died, Gabriel.”

Gabriel looked at him as if he had suddenly grown a second head. “Yes, obviously.”  Realization flowed over the angel’s features and he closed his mouth with a click. “Oh, right. Huh, maybe I am an idiot, after all?”

John shook his head, wondering if Chloe had half these problems with her own angel. Well, not that Gabriel was his angel exactly, but he was typical of his kin.  “Focus, Gabriel. We need to figure this out.”

“Right, right,” Gabriel clucked, bobbing his head up and down. “Let’s see, we have one over worked, underappreciated little sister missing, one scary, ill-tempered older sister on the lamb, and one cute baby sister ready to stab me in the tenders for putting her under house arrest.” He raised a hand before John could protest. “Just for a day or two.”

“You know she hates enclosed spaces.”

Gabriel ran his tongue over his bottom row of teeth, and glared at John, clearly annoyed. “I didn’t lock her in a box, if that’s what you’re implying.”

John lifted his hands in a placating gesture. “You know it’s not. It’s just that Gazardiel is—”

“She is a child. And, I don’t want her wandering off on her own,” Gabriel finished for him. His tone was serious and protective with little room for argument. “Which is why we need to figure out what happened and quickly.”

John nodded in agreement. As he suspected, much of Gabriel’s antics were an act. “So, what do we know?”

Frank pressed his lips together. Things became more confusing by the second it seemed, but even so, he was willing to help where and when he could. “Right before Azrael left, I could feel emotions around me. Then there was a blank spot, almost like I fell into a hole, and they were both gone.”

Gabriel nodded and tapped his lips with one long finger. “What you felt was probably from being so close to Azrael. Emotions from dead mortals cling to her, and sometimes they seep off. It’s nothing she can control and it—” he made a face. “sort of embarrasses her, actually.”

“Why?”

“She’s shy, so anything that call attention to her unsettles her,” the angel said with a shrug, pointedly ignoring John’s surprised expression. _Ah, the perks of being useless_ , he thought to himself.  As for the rest, that ‘hole’ feeling. If I had to guess,  which I do, because she only tells me half of half of half of her plans, was Raziel using her gift to conceal your memories.”

“I don’t remember,” Frank blurted out, realizing the moment the words left his mouth how ridiculous they sounded. Of course, he wouldn’t remember someone hiding his memories. “Uh, I mean, she never got close to me.”

“She doesn’t have to,” John interjected quickly, cutting off what was undoubtedly another sarcastic retort from Gabriel. “I’ve seen her hide an entire realm from her throne room.”

Gabriel craned his neck back, his tongue poking the inside of his bottom lip. “Interesting. Even more so that you’d tell me.”

“Why wouldn’t I?” John asked, scratching the back of his neck. “You’re a nonsense. No one would believe you.”

Gabriel’s eyes widened in surprise as his mouth rounded into a little “o” shape. He pressed his lips together and nodded, shaking a pointed finger in time with his head. “Well, my friend. It seems your future grandchildren might be smart enough to make up for the ugly.”

A sarcastic retort bubbled on John’s tongue but was swallowed before it could be uttered. He knew Gabriel well enough to know that he was being baited. The angel only picked on others because he enjoyed being picked on in return. At least, mocking his possible, future grandchildren aside, it remained on the side of good natured fun. “What’s going on in that empty little head of yours?”

“I’m useless, not stupid. You’re thinking of Jophiel,” Gabriel quipped, holding up a finger. “Raziel hid her departure, but not her absence. That’s not like her.”

The hairs stood on the back of John’s neck at the angel’s tone. Beneath Gabriel’s chipper irreverence was a thinly concealed rage. Something terrible was about to or had already happened. He casually edged closer to Frank, his fingers just brushing the coin still within his pocket.   

The priest seemed to sense something was amiss, as well, but instead of moving closer to John, he stepped toward Gabriel. “Azrael thought your sister was unhappy.”

Gabriel sagged slightly, his eyes softening the barest fraction. “I’m not surprised. Everyone goes to Raziel with their problems, but none of us consider how she might feel.”

“I think she enjoys helping,” he offered, glancing briefly at Frank. The priest glanced back at him, a question in his dark eyes, but said nothing.

“That just makes it worse,” Gabriel murmured before pulling a long feather from the depths of his robes. It was a soft dove gray tipped in almost black, and almost the length of his forearm. “Especially when someone is ungrateful.”

Heart caught in his throat, John stepped forward and pulled the feather from Gabriel’s unresisting fingers. “This isn’t from any angel I’ve met,” he replied, turning it over in his hands before returning it to Gabriel. “Who’s is it?”

“Michael’s,” Gabriel answered shortly, the name sounding much like a curse. It perhaps it was a curse, given how the air seemed to freeze around them. “It seems my dear brother isn’t quite as missing as everyone believes.”

“Raziel hid him,” Frank said at last finally breaking his silence. His voice was raspy and his throat strangely tight. “She told Azrael he came to her after the rebellion.”

“Yes,” Gabriel replied drolly, tilting his head to eyeing Frank like a particularly interesting bug. “Which is what I meant by ungrateful.”

John stepped forward, protectively between the priest and the angel. “So, you what? Think Michael showed up after all this time, grabbed Raziel, and then left?”

The angel made a little humming sound low in his throat. He shuffled back and forth on his feet, seeming to consider his words. “The rebellion was bad. Well, more than bad. But it might never have happened if Father hadn’t sent Raziel away.”

John frowned, and then stepped sideways blocking Frank as he tried to step around him. “I know she and Lucifer used to be close, but could she have really talked him out of it?”

Gabriel shook his head and grinned. When he next spoke, there was an undeniable fondness in his tone. “Lucifer would be ruling heaven now if she stayed. Well, probably not ruling, exactly, but there would be far more naked people around. More’s the pity, really.”

Frank, tired of people talking around him or otherwise pretending he was not around, sidestepped John to stand almost nose to nose with the Angel Gabriel. “But Michael wouldn’t fight his sister, and your father knew it. He allowed the rebellion to happen.”

Gabriel blinked, craning his neck back in surprised, and nodded in appreciation. “I’m impressed. It’s a rare mortal that will believe the worst of my father. Especially, when it’s true.”

For a moment, Frank considered what Gabriel had just said. Had his faith been so shattered that he had begun to think the worst of God? No, he decided without hesitation. God had a plan. And while that plan might not be completely to his liking, it was the only one he had. “Your father has a plan.”

“Yes,” the angel drew out. “It ends in fire.  Well, at least it used to. Who knows now that Lucifer is camped out on the mortal plane.” He stretched, his wings lifting slightly. “Look, that’s a conversation for another millennium. Right now, well…Lucifer, Michael, and Raziel are the most powerful of Father’s angels, so that two out of three are missing is not good.”

John followed Gabriel’s eyes as he gazed westward to the dark and empty that Michael had once called home. What was the angel driving at, he wondered? “I thought Amenadiel was the most powerful.”

Gabriel chuckle snorted but didn’t remove his gaze from the tower. “So, does he. And he’s a right ass about it.  Don’t get me wrong, Amenadiel is or was powerful, but he’s always been more of a straight up puncher. The other three, especially when working together can upend the cosmos.”

“So, which one is Raziel’s tower?” Frank interrupted, only half listening. His  gaze was fixed on Lucifer’s tower. It glowed brightly in response, its radiance reflecting off the other towers.

Gabriel looked away, grumbling something beneath his breath. “Yes, yes, Lucifer,” he muttered, glaring at the tower as if it were his brother before him. “Your lightbringer powers are returning. Now knock it off.”

To everyone’s surprise, especially Gabriel’s, the tower dimmed to a soft, soothing glow.

“Huh? If I’d known it was that easy,” Gabriel squeaked, his eyebrows nearly reaching his hairline. “But to answer your question. We’re in Raziel’s tower.”

Frank looked at John who nodded in confirmation. “But, how is that possible? This looks like my old neighborhood.”

“You’ve been in her tower since Gazardiel removed you from the Crossroads,” Gabriel explained with a tired sigh. “It only looks like your old neighborhood because it’s drawing from your memories.”

“Why would she send me to Raziel’s tower?”

“Because Raziel asked her to,” John answered, pinching the bridge of his nose. He dropped his hands to his side, swinging them slightly in tired frustration. “It’s why we believe that Raziel’s disappearance wasn’t her choice.”

“And Marlene?” he asked, his voice tight. Suddenly, he felt so betrayed, but also ashamed of the feeling. God has a plan, he reminded himself, only to hear Lucifer’s voice echo back. _Why does everyone think it’s a good plan?_

“I’m a dad, too, remember?” John said, laying a strong hand on Frank’s shoulder. “So, believe me when I tell you that Raziel would never do anything to harm your daughter.”

Frank breathed out a shaky breath. He wanted to believe John, and realized that, deep down, he truly did. “How do I leave the tower?”

John seemed to consider for a moment. “I think now that you know you’re in the tower, you should be able to leave. Just think of an exit.”

Frank thought of the doors to his old church, and suddenly they appeared, hanging on nothing but air. He reached for the doorknob, but then paused and looked back at the two men. “If I leave, will I be able to get back?”

“Probably not without Raziel’s permission,” Gabriel answered, tilting his head birdlike as he watch Frank’s fingers skim the doorknob.

Then the priest let his hand drop, and stepped away. “Then, I hope you have a plan.”

“Indeed, I do,” Gabriel said lowly. Behind him, Lucifer’s tower flared to life, casting shadows along the angel’s cheekbones. “We’re going to kidnap Lucifer.”


	3. Chapter Three

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've had sort of reverse writer's block. I've wanted to start new stories rather than work on my current ones. It's a condition. Yup.

There were plans that were stupid, and then there were plans so stupid they were brilliant. Gabriel’s plan, however, was very likely neither. It probably was even a plan, really, more just the first thing that popped into the angel’s mind.

“You want to kidnap Lucifer?” John repeated slowly as if speaking to a small child. Which wasn’t far from the truth. Except in this case, the _child_ in question was a six-foot-two mass of lanky muscle that refused to wear shoes.

Gabriel tutted, his features drawn down in mock disappointment. “Kidnap is such an ugly word.”

“You just said…” John pinched the bridge of his nose feeling the headache to end all headaches coming on. He locked eyes with Frank, hoping for a second voice of reason.

The priest, for his part, seemed to understand and gave a small nod of understanding. “Didn’t you just say that Lucifer was one of the three most powerful angels in creation?”

Gabriel nodded sagely, seeming to consider Frank’s words. “I might have, yes,” he admitted, tilting his head to the side. “Which is why one of us is going down there and convince him to help all civilized and such. Well, not you because you’re dead, and not John because, well, he’s less dead, but still too dead to go back to earth.”

“Less dead?” Frank questioned, his eyebrows now in danger of wrapping themselves around the other side of his head. “How can someone be less dead?”

John stuck his hands in his pockets and rocked back on his heels a sigh escaping his lips. The Erelim were not simply empowered souls. They were souls given new bodies so that they might aid Raziel on her assorted tasks. Bodies that were more than human, but less than divine, and often took centuries to form.  But explaining that was difficult, especially when he didn’t completely understand it himself. “It’s complicated.”

“And sticky, from what I understand,” Gabriel added as an aside. “But yes, preternatural secretions aside, we have other problems.”

The rage was still in Gabriel’s tone, rolling just below a thin veneer of irreverent humor. “Moppet broke the crossroads. I honestly thought that she was over her let’s poke at this ‘til it explodes phase.”

Frank looked quizzically between the pair. “Moppet?”  

“Raziel,” John clarified with a bemused smirk. “Apparently she looked like a dust mop when she was little.”

“Yes,” Gabriel drew out in an almost purr, “All hair and eyes with huge blue wings that were nearly twice the size they needed be. Such an ugly child.” He sighed, his mood diming. “But, like Lucifer, she grew up pretty.”

John frowned, trying to read Gabriel. The angel was a master of giving information without saying a word. “She looks like Lucifer.”

“A bit,” Gabriel agreed, a bit too carefully for John’s liking. “And Lucifer looks like Michael. Three angels that resemble, but only one with boobs. Wonder why that is?”

“I wonder,” John replied, filing away the information for later. Gabriel was definitely trying to tell him something. What that could be, he wasn’t certain. Regardless, he had more pressing matters at the moment. “Raziel created the Crossroads. Why would she destroy them?”

Gabriel gave him an odd look, tilting his head as if he didn’t quite understand the question, and gave a little offhanded shrug.

“Father created humans, and then drowned most of them. I suspect Raziel’s reasons might be much the same.”

Lucifer’s tower suddenly flared to life, seeming to echo Gabriel’s words. The angel pivoted towards it, the tower’s silvery light bleeding the color from his eyes so that he looked blind.

“Stubborn,” the angel whispered, addressing the tower or perhaps even its owner.” Then he smiled fondly, almost wistfully, and murmured something in a language neither man could understand. “And, yet…”

Gabriel turned back to his companions, the tower’s light turning his auburn locks a brilliant shade of copper. “Only Raziel knows why she does anything. She’s her father’s daughter in that respect.”

“Petty revenge,” Frank said suddenly reminded of the conversation he overheard. He backpedaled just as quickly, wondering if he should really repeat anything he heard. “At least that’s what she told Azrael.”

Gabriel made a tiny delighted sound and clasped his hands together. “I see you are no ordinary dropper of eaves.”

John groaned almost inaudibly and shook his head. “Gabriel.”

Gabriel wound his way between the two men to plop down in the rope swing. He gave John a pleading, doe-eyed look which the man completely ignored.

John shook his head and smirked. “I’m not pushing you.”

Gabriel huffed and pumped his legs just enough to make the swing sway. “You’d pushed Gazardiel.”

“Gazardiel is a child,” John reminded, not quite as put upon as he pretended. “Whose feelings I’ve probably hurt.”

“I’m someone’s child,” Gabriel fake pouted as he slowly drifted back and front in the swing. “But fine. As at least one of you knows, Raziel is the Keeper of Secrets.”

He looked at Frank, all silliness suddenly forgotten. “That you remember the conversation at all means one of two things. Either, she didn’t know you were there or she wanted you to know something.”

Frank frowned, thinking back to that day, and nodded. He remembered Raziel looking directly at him in the Crossroads, her dark eyes staring directly into his soul. At first, he had simply assumed that she had been too distracted by Azrael to truly register his presence, now he wasn’t so certain. “She saw me.”

John chewed at his bottom lip, going all that he knew or at least thought he knew about Raziel. She was kindhearted, a little naïve, and utterly terrifying when crossed. She was also a good listener and a better confidant. He cast a worried glance to Frank, hoping that the man was truly holding up as well as he seemed to be. Raziel was often irresponsible, but she would never abandon a project. Especially not one that was this dear to her heart.

“What about your father?”

Gabriel stopped the swing with one foot and seemed to consider for a moment, then peered up at John, shaking his head. “Father has only left his throne a few times in recent memory. And even then, He only does so to annoy Lucifer. We’re talking serious Man-crush here.”

“Right,” John deadpanned, realizing that his angelic friend was very close to going off on yet another mad tangent. “What I meant was, could your Father have destroyed the crossroads?”

“Possible, but not likely,” Gabriel replied thoughtfully. “He needs the Crossroads as much as we do. Perhaps more so.”

The angel paused, as if he were considering whether or not to elaborate, and then shrugged. “Even so, he’d never do it himself. Used to be, he’d send his favorite errand boy.”

“Amenadiel,” John clarified, looking over to Frank. “He’s the eldest angel—”

“And general fuck up. Yes,” Gabriel snapped, anger lurking just beneath his almost jovial tone. “But at least he’s finally getting what’s coming to him.”

Frank gave the angel a stern, fatherly look and clasped his hands behind his back. He looked at the angel who raised his eyebrows in response, but, at least for the moment, said nothing. “Do you really believe that?”

Gabriel chuckled darkly. His laughter seemed to roll around him and sent shivers down Frank’s spine. “I’ve wiped the tears from the eyes of too many siblings to ever pity Amenadiel.”

Before Frank could speak, Gabriel lifted a hand, silencing him. “But my point which I’m sure I had somewhere,” he made a little humming sound, and then perked up. “Ah, there it is! There is a good chance Father has no idea what’s happened.”

“How is that possible?” Frank said in a voice that was barely a whisper. He could feel his faith, as if were an old tattered ribbon, slowly buffeted in the breeze. God was supposed to be all-knowing, all-powerful, and most importantly, all loving. To learn He may not be any of those things was a true test of his faith, but perhaps it was meant to be.

“All things are possible. Just some are more fun than others,” Gabriel began kindly as if he could sense Frank’s inner turmoil, and the tipped back into the swing. “The notion of God being all-knowing is somewhat of a human fallacy. And yet, completely true.”

Frank looked at John who shrugged and put his hands up in the air in surrender.  “So, he only knows what he wants to know?”

“Exactly!” Gabriel crowed and snapped his fingers. “I always knew you were the smart one.” He sighed a pleased sigh and righted himself in the swing.

“For instance, say Father wanted to know what a random human in Texas was doing. He would know because he wants to. But, at the same time, he doesn’t know what color underwear I’m wearing because he doesn’t care.”

John groaned inwardly and raised his hand to point in Gabriel’s direction. The non-tangent was nice for the whole two seconds it lasted. Mentally, he counted to ten more than aware of what Gabriel was trying to accomplish. The angel liked to play the fool. Long ago, he decided that to be considered useless was a mark of pride.

Why this was, he was never completely sure. He had asked Raziel about it on more than one occasion. She laughed and simply informed him with a sort of whimsical amusement that God may watch over children, but he sends fools to Limbo. Limbo is the place between places where lost souls wandered until Azrael came to collect them.

He found himself wondering once again if Chloe had similar problems with Lucifer. Did the devil run off on mad tangents under the strange misconception of what helpful meant? It wasn’t just simply Gabriel. Even Raziel had moments where she was more adjacent to helpful than actually helpful. Over the years, John simply learned to take it in stride. Let angels be angels. It always worked out in the end.

Even so, there were a dozen or more glaring flaws in Gabriel’s latest scheme.

“Before you delight us with your undergarment choices,” John began in a tone of exasperated patience. “We can’t reach earth without The Crossroads. And if we can’t reach earth, we can’t contact Lucifer.”

“Ah, yes,” Gabriel replied, running his tongue over his bottom row of teeth. “I was getting to that before you wandered off on one of your mad tangents. Honestly, why do I put up with you humans?”

John facepalmed and shook his head. He really should know better by now. “Yes, we humans. Terrible distracting creatures.”

Gabriel bobbed his head, almost overcome with glee. He so adored it when people cared enough to play along. “Well, at least you admit it.”

“Wait,” Frank said suddenly, desperate to edge himself into a conversation over events that did involve him. “I was in the Crossroads after Raziel disappeared. So, it quit working after I left.”

Gabriel lifted his legs to allow the swing to sway slowly back in forth. His expression grew thoughtful. “Yes and no. Its power faded over several minutes. I had time to do a flyover before it collapsed. That’s how I found Michael’s feather.”

For a long moment, it was silent save for the slow, steady creak of the branch above the swing. An odd look came over John’s face as he poked the inside of his cheek with his tongue. “Just out of curiosity. What were you doing in The Crossroads?”

“Ah, yes,” Gabriel began with a satisfied purr, “I was wondering when I’d become a suspect.”

John dropped his hands to his side. “I didn’t say—”

“Oh hush,” the angel said with a snort. He took a deep breath and leaned back, gripping both ropes of the swing. Then, suddenly, he sat up in a rush and planted both feet on the ground. He looked from Frank to John, his gaze searching, tears gathered on the ends of his lashes. “I went to try to convince Azrael not to leave. But, I was too late, per usual.”

He looked back at Frank, his face filled with genuine sympathy. “I’m sorry, my friend. You deserve better.”

“Life isn’t about what you deserve,” Frank said kindly and smiled. It was obvious Gabriel was holding something back, but as to what he had no clue. “And who knows? Maybe this is my purpose.”

Gabriel rose from the swing, sniffling slightly, and wiped his nose on the back of his sleeve. “Perhaps.” He laughed to himself, a wet throaty chuckle. “Mood swings, thy name is Gabriel.”

Frank edged closer to Gabriel and reached out to pat his arm. He meant it to be a comforting gesture, so he was surprised when the angel scuttled back as if he had been burned.

“Sorry,” Gabriel stammered, obviously shaken. “Can we get back to the let’s kidnap Lucifer plan now?”

Frank traded looks with John who slowly shook his head. “There is no need to apologize,” he said softly, encouragingly. “Have faith that these trials are temporary.”

“Always darkest before the dawn, eh?” Gabriel replied with a small, bitter laugh, and edge away from Frank. “Too bad I’ve sent the angel of dawn to her room. But, yes, this too will pass.”

“Just in time for the next crisis,” John teased and was rewarded with a chuckle from Gabriel. The angel seemed settled now but gave no clue as to what had caused his sudden strange behavior. He shot a look to Frank. “I’ve been putting out fires since I got here. Sometimes literally.”

“One time and I’m never going to live it down,” Gabriel snarked with a liberal application of puppy eyes. Then before John could reply, he sobered, and his expression grew grave.

“The Crossroads is a nexus of portals. We angels can travel between the planes without it.  It’s just much slower and far more dangerous.”

“How much more dangerous?” John asked, somewhat at a loss. He still wasn’t quite sure how kidnapping Lucifer would solve anything. Moreover, he was worried that such an attempt would endanger Chloe.

He had watched her when he was able and knew the lengths she would go to protect the devil. This plan was foolish, more so because it seemed it would cause more problems than it solved.

“Between the critters that live between the planes and the constant risk of falling into the void? Very,” Gabriel explained, tapping at his chin. “And that’s not even considering having to cross whole plans filled with beings Mum and Dad might have pissed off back in the day.”

Something within Gabriel’s tone struck a chord within Frank. He began to feel the stirrings of something he couldn’t quite name. It was something he had felt before in the dark days after Marlene’s death. That intangible something that led him to become a priest.

It was pain. His pain allowed him to see it in others. Pain had been his guide into a life that allowed him to help others. And heaven was no reason it should change. “I seem to recall mentions of God’s wife in some Biblical Apocrypha I studied back in seminary school.”

Something smoldered within Gabriel’s eyes, and for a moment, Frank thought perhaps he had prodded something best left undisturbed.

Then Gabriel sighed. “Don’t believe everything you’ve read.” He looked up at the sky and rolled his shoulders before looking Frank straight in the eye. There was a clear message in those eyes that said, _Leave it alone._

“Doesn’t matter anyway. Mum upped her stick to another universe without so much as a _fuck you_ to her kids. So, there is no need to talk about her.”

“She’s your mother,” Frank gently prodded, unphased when Gabriel bristled. “It’s okay to miss her.”

“I miss Raziel more,” Gabriel snapped, glowering. “Speaking of. Maybe we can get back to figuring out what happened to her?”

“Ah, yes,” John said hastily, eyes bugging out at the priest. Apparently, no one had warned him about poking sleeping bears.

“You’re going to have to explain this plan of yours.  How will kidnapping Lucifer solve anything?”

“Father won’t simply kick Lucifer out if he’s been brought to the Silver City against his will. Which will come in handy should we actually have to go into the city,” Gabriel explained, his sudden melancholy all but vanished. “Not his fault he was kidnapped, after all.”

John gaped at him, his eyes incredulous. “And you really think your father will go for that?”

“Of course, he will,” Gabriel chirped and rubbed his hands together excitedly. “Father’s a real stickler for semantics. Regardless, we will never find Raziel without the Crossroads. And, to be honest, if she doesn’t want to be found, we won’t.”

“Real good at hide n seek, I take it?” Frank asked, his expression thoughtful. “Or hiding other people?”

“Both.” Gabriel clucked his tongue, his eyes far away. “We used to pick on her about it when we were younger.”

“Kids can be jerks,” John mused with a slight frown. “Even if they’re angels.”

Gabriel hummed and shook his head. “Especially if they’re angels.” He winced slightly, guilt creeping over his features. “Well, one day we went entirely too far.”

Frank and John traded wide-eyed, eyebrow raised looks and stared back at Gabriel. “Let me guess,” John teased, “something exploded?”

Gabriel tipped his head from side to side weighing John’s question. “In a manner of speaking.”

He rose from the swing and walked over to stand at the trunk of the tree. “We became deserving of punishment.”

“So, Lucifer didn’t like you picking on his sister,” Frank said, fondly, filling in the blanks for himself. “I suppose you should’ve seen that coming.”

Gabriel chuckled and leaned back against the tree, crossing his legs at the ankles. “Our sister, but yes. We had cornered Raziel in the garden. And that’s when we really got started.” He winced and slowly shook his head. “We were complete bastards.”

“I’m assuming Lucifer wasn’t with you,” John said after trading looks with Frank.

“No. He was off creating music. And by that, I mean, he was actually creating it. It didn’t exist before then. Michael was with him, of course.” The angel crossed his arms over his chest, hugging himself as if cold. “Poor Micha, he was always so terrified of something happening to Lucifer.”

His words drifted off as his eyes wandered west to where Michael’s tower once stood. It crumbled after the rebellion, shattered to innumerable pieces, like Michael himself. He jerked his gaze away, as if it suddenly become painful and perhaps it had, and then looked back at his companions.

“Anyway. We picked on Moppet a lot. But this time… we reduced her to a hysterical, sobbing mess, that’s when we started pulling her hair and her wings. Anything to make her cry…”  he grimaced faintly and shook his head. “Ambriel knocked her to the ground, and that’s when Lucifer swept down upon us with Michael hot on his heels.”

His voice was warm and rich in the air but tinged with sadness. He lolled his head back to look at the sky through the branches of the tree. He smiled fondly, but his eyes were empty. “As we ran for cover, Lucifer grabbed Raziel and bolted while Michael stayed behind to beat the crap out of us.”

John pressed his lips together and wondered if there had ever been a time where the angels had attentive parents. “I can’t believe I’m saying this, but good for Michael.”

“Yeah.” Gabriel winced and rubbed his head. “Michael is a head-butting juggernaut of destruction. I’m lucky I still have all my teeth.”

Frank frown, his expression stern, but kind, and shook his head. “I bet no one picked on her after that.”

“Well…” Gabriel cringed and tilted his head to one side. “Never said we were smart.”

John frowned and rubbed the back of his neck. “What does this have to do with the Crossroad?”

“I was getting to that,” Gabriel said with a bob of his head. “I’m not sure how it happened. I think Jophiel might have accidentally hit Raphael, instead of Michael. But, it soon it became an all-out brawl.” He barked a laugh. “Michael slipped away in the chaos, leaving the rest of us holding the bag when our very angry mother showed up.”

Frank smirked and shook his head while John pressed his fist against his mouth to fight back a snort of laughter.

“Let me guess,” John asked, clearing his throat. “Just as Lucifer planned.”

“Yep,” Gabriel confirmed, ending the word with a pop sound. “We found them hours later, cuddled together like a pile of puppies.” He snorted, but his eyes smiled. “Raziel was different after that.”

“How so?”

The angel paused, seeming to weigh his words. “Lucifer is the Light bringer, and not because he can make things glow in the dark. He taught Raziel to use her gifts, and she became terrifyingly powerful under his tutelage.”

He looked up at Lucifer’s tower once more. It glowed softly in response as if it were truly listening to him. “Afterward, she, Lucifer and Michael created everything. If an apple falls from a tree, it’s because Raziel demanded it.  And if the apple exists at all, it’s because Michael and Lucifer willed it to be so.”

John stared at Gabriel in stunned disbelief. He knew Raziel to be powerful, but this was far too much for him to believe. “So, you’re saying Raziel created gravity?”

“Among other things,” Gabriel replied simply. “Lucifer and Michael shaped the raw energy of the universe and Raziel made the rules in which it functions.”

Silent and forgotten, Frank leaned forward, hoping to interject into the conversation. He knew it probably wasn’t wish, but something nagged at him. “Lucifer didn’t seem that powerful when I met him.”

Gabriel nodded. “Which is a good thing,” he answered, and then raised a hand when it looked as though Frank was about to interrupt. “The last time one of our trio unleashed a fraction of her power on earth, the dinosaurs died. And they’ve only grown more powerful since.”

“So, Lucifer, Raziel, and Michael can’t use their full power without destroying the universe?” John frowned, his expression dubious. There was a piece to the puzzle missing. Something important enough to make Gabriel take a huge risk for what was likely to be little reward.

“Why do I get the impression you’re not telling me everything?”

“Because I’m not,” the angel replied flatly. He looked straight ahead, staring at nothing. “But I swear to you Chloe will not be harmed.”

“Don’t make promises you can’t keep, Gabriel.” John scowled, his jaw clenching as he ground his teeth. “And I don’t want Lucifer hurt either.”

Gabriel’s lips twisted into a ghost of a smile. “Nor do I.” He exhaled and stared down at his feet. “I’m asking you to trust me, John.”

John softened just slightly but remained wary. He knew the lengths Chloe would go to protect Lucifer. He grimaced. “I do trust you, but this is my daughter.”

“And Lucifer’s my brother,” the angel replied, kindly. “And despite what you humans have been led to believe, I love him very much. So, believe me when I say that I wouldn’t do this unless I had another choice.”

John choked a laugh that was almost a sob. “Well, you haven’t made a single fart joke since you arrived, so you must be serious. And we have to find Raziel.” He glanced over at Frank. “What do you think?”

“Well,” Frank began, pausing to carefully choose his words. “I think that if our friend here was planning on hurting Lucifer or Chloe, he’d find a much easier way.”

Gabriel beamed, just slightly, but his smile didn’t reach his eyes. _Pity the two of you are involved in all this._ “Well, I suppose I could tell you at least one thing I’ve been keeping from you.”

John rolled his eyes and counted to ten before speaking. “So, help me, if you’ve already sent someone to get Lucifer I’m going to choke you.”

The angel ignored him, but instead looked out at the towers and pointed to an empty space in the skyline.

“That’s where Michael’s tower once stood. It collapsed after he disappeared. We didn’t think much of it, at first. It’s his tower, if he wanted to knock it down so be it. But then Uriel’s tower collapsed after he died. Then we knew. I knew…” He faced crumpled just slightly, fraying around the edges. “Michael is dead. I don’t know how, but he’s gone.”

“No,” Frank interjected sharply, almost breathlessly, and winced, wondering if he should say anything at all. If Gabriel was right, he only knew because Raziel wished him to, then perhaps she wished him to share the information as well. “Raziel visited him not too long ago.”

Gabriel blinked hard, clearly shocked, and lifted his shoulders with his nod. “Huh.”

John frowned and looked from Gabriel to Frank, trying to gauge their reactions.  The angel looked shocked, pale around the edges, and slightly angry. “Are you sure about that?”

Frank shifted a bit, not quite certain he wanted to be the center of attention. He nodded. “Yes, she said he was in Florida, but apparently wouldn’t be staying long.”

“I see,” Gabriel hissed, the air shimmering around him, and unfurled his wings. “Seems I need to go murder someone.”

And with that, he was gone, leaving the two men completely alone.

“Damn it, Gabriel,” John cursed and kicked at the ground with one foot. He shook his head, and then spun on his heel toward Frank. “Raziel hid Michael, didn’t she?”

Frank nodded and chose his words carefully. “She told Azrael that Michael was in Florida, but not to bother visiting since he’d be gone before she arrived.”

John poked the inside of his bottom lip with his tongue. “Michael has been mentioned more times this past hour than he’s been the fifteen years I’ve been here. There’s something…”

“Could Michael have anything to do with the problem with the Crossroads and Raziel’s disappearance?”

“I don’t know. None of this makes sense to me,” John admitted, sticking his hands in his pockets and rocking back on his heels. “In truth, we only decided to question you because Gazardiel wouldn’t let it go.”

Frank frowned and stuck his hands in his pockets. “You were humoring her.”

John bobbed his head and looked rather guilty. Gazardiel was young, for an angel, and rather fretful. It had been easy to dismiss her claims that something had happened to Raziel as simple anxiety. Too easy, he realized now.

“Yeah. Tabitha assumed Raziel would return before I was done questioning you. She’d calm Gazardiel down and everything would be back to normal.” He frowned. “It’s not like her to make such a bad call.”

“What are you going to do?”

John’s shoulders slumped as he breathed out and shook his head. “I have to report in. I think it’s safe to say that we can’t let Gabriel anywhere near Lucifer. If that’s even still his plan.”

Frank seemed to consider for a moment, and then, stuck out his hand. “Raziel wanted to talk to me about something. I’d like to help make sure she gets the chance. And Lucifer is a friend.”

“I’m pretty sure I’m going to need it.” John grimaced, but then took the offered hand. “Let’s hope Gabriel isn’t really going to go murder anyone.”

 

For the second time in as many weeks, Chloe was late to a crime scene. And as usual, it was Lucifer’s fault. Lucifer, and the way he looked so mussed and adorable the first thing in the morning. It was the way he nuzzled against her after the alarm went off, his eyelashes brushing against the hollow of her throat.

It was the way he always looked so surprised when she climbed on top of him. It was their lovemaking always left her limbs feeling warm and floaty for hours. Most importantly, however, it was the fact that he adamantly refused to learn the meaning of the word _quickie._

“Well, someone’s in a good mood.”

She looked up to see Dan standing at her driver’s side window. He smirked down at her with that bemused expression he wore almost non-stop now that she and Lucifer had thrown caution to the wind and decided to give _them_ a try.

Last night _them_ consisted of staying up all night watching movies and having sex at dawn. After the craziness that was her life over the last few years, Chloe had promised herself she would take things slow with Lucifer. He was the devil after all and her second magical boyfriend. Slowly had been thrown out the window in favor of less fast, which had then been ditched for whatever they were doing this week.

Which brought her to another reason why her lateness was all Lucifer’s fault. Well, it was more the fault of his perfect collarbones and the way his back muscles rippled when he unfurled his wings. Even so, he should know better than to shower naked—or something.

She looked up at Dan who was now full out grinning at her and climbed out of the car. “Hey.”

Her voice was breathy and pitched slightly higher as it often was when she was embarrassed. She made a face, bugging her eyes slightly and clenching her jaw. Then without waiting for a reply, she strode off across the beach toward the cordoned off murder scene.

She paused in mid-step, struck with a sudden sense of déjà vu, and turned back to Dan who was jogging after her. “Isn’t this the same place Charlotte Richards…”

Chloe made a vague gesture with her hands and pointed her chin at the pier.

“Yeah, I…” Dan deflated slightly and looked away. His on-again, off-again relationship with Charlotte Richards still made his head spin if he thought too much about it. So, perhaps it was best to just focus on the case, rather than the weirdness that had become his life. “Victim is a Jane Doe. Uh... Chlo?  Ella puts the time of death at around six this morning.”

“That’s less than three hours ago.” Chloe looked crushed for a split second before smoothing her face into calm, professional lines. If someone had found their victim just a few hours ago, this would’ve been a completely different investigation. “Our perp could still be in the area. Who found the body?”

“Dr. Meghan Arelis. She’s a researcher at UCLA.” Dan jerked his head toward the pier and shook his head. This case had him strangely rattled and he wasn’t quite sure why. “She’s with the paramedics now. She's pretty shaken up.”

“All right, I’ll talk to her after I check in with Ella. See if there is anything to be found on the security cameras.”

Dan nodded and trotted off in the direction of the pier, presumably to check in on their witness. As she strode across the beach, she pulled out her phone to check the time. If Lucifer left Lux when she asked, he would be here within the next few minutes.

“Hey, Ella,” she called out and dropped to a squat next to the other woman. “What do we got?”

“A total mess. Our victim is a white female, mid-twenties, no ID,” Ella recited as she scribbled on a notepad and then, reached under the tarp to pull out one long, slender hand. “and a kick-ass manicure.”  

She paused and looked over Chloe’s shoulder to where Lucifer usually hovered. She groaned and rolled her eyes in exasperation.

“Are guys still doing the let’s take separate cars, so no one realizes we’re sleeping together thing? I mean, come on, dudes.  It’s so obvious.”

“Well,” Chloe sighed, trying very hard to tell herself that Ella was just being Ella and not intentionally prodding at still healing wounds. “You know, after Marcus I—”

Ella sucked in a breath from between her teeth, wincing as she shook her head.  “Yeah, let’s totally bring up the obviously evil ex-boyfriend at a crime scene. Smooth, Ella, real smooth.”

Chloe rubbed the bridge of her nose with one hand and shook her head. “It’s fine. Cause of death?”

“Right. Uh, she was stabbed from behind with something super long and really sharp. Like a gin’tak or bat’leth.” Ella made a swinging motion with her hands and then frowned. “No, a bat’leth is too curved.”

“Right Star Trek convention in town,” Chloe said with a huff, suddenly reminded that she had been up all night, and pulled back the blue tarp covering the victim.

The woman was laying on her stomach, her dark hair tangled around her slender form like seaweed. The jagged, broken edge of a metal shaft jutted out from between the woman’s shoulder blades.  

“She also has multiple fractures,” Ella added, tapping along the woman’s arm with one gloved finger. “You should really come to the con this weekend.”

“But no defensive wounds,” Chloe murmured, pretending she didn’t hear Ella’s not-so-subtle invitation. She and Trixie were going to the Farmer’s market this weekend with the hopes that she and Trixie would also include Lucifer. “Sorry, babe. I already made plans this weekend.”

Ella gave her a knowing look and bobbed her head. “You and Lucifer are totally gonna bone.”

Chloe sighed and decided to ignore the comment. It was either that or confront Ella on her need to live her life vicariously through hers. She probably should do so eventually, just not while there was a body between them. For now, she turned her attention back to the victim.

Jane Doe was beaten, stabbed, burned, and then dumped on a beach. The lack of defensive wounds likely ruled out beaten, but not necessarily if it had occurred after she had been stabbed. Chloe frowned down at the victim, strangely unwilling to think of her as dead. “Can you tell if she was beaten before or after she was stabbed?”

Ella shook her head but didn’t look up from her work. “Not beaten. The fractures were caused by impact. She fell off something super high.”

Chloe looked around, taking in the area. The pier was twenty or so yards away and in the distance was the Ferris wheel. Charlotte Richards fell off the pier with only minor injuries, which only left the Ferris wheel. “Could the metal rod in her back be from the Ferris wheel?”

Ella sat back on her heels and looked up over the pier to the Ferris Wheel. “Maybe, but that old Ferris Wheel is made of steel. Whatever’s in her back isn’t.”

A tangible wrongness settled over the beach causing both women to shiver. Chloe reached forward and laid her hand on the victim’s shoulder. She was still soft and pliable beneath Chloe’s fingers as if she were only sleeping. Strange. Rigor should’ve already set in. “What about her clothes? They don’t look off the rack.”

“No tags or labels on the clothes, so probably custom. Might even be a costume.” Ella looked thoughtful and handed Chloe a small evidence bag. “Her jewelry too.”

Chloe held the bag up at eye level and turned it around in her hands. Within was a slender silvery bracelet etched with gemstones and stylized stars. No, not silver, she realized, not quite certain how she knew, but something not quite of this world. Something with the pure luster of platinum. If platinum ebbed with a light that could be heard rather than seen.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered, longing to rip open the plastic bag to trace the bracelet’s etching with fingertips, but not daring. Carefully, she reached out and brushed the hair from the woman’s face.

Even crusted with sand and splattered with blood, Jane Doe was lovely. Her skin was flawless with full pink lips and long, feathery lashes that laid against her pallid cheeks like bits of lace.

“I totally don’t approve on perving on the dead,” Ella began, her eyes wide with appreciation. “But, damn, major hottie alert.”

Chloe only half listened as Ella continued to ramble and slid a hand under the woman’s cheek. With a tenderness she usually reserved for her own daughter, Chloe carefully tilted the woman’s head toward her. There was something uncannily familiar about the curve of the woman’s jaw and the sculpted tip of her nose. It was the same something that told her that the eyes behind those too still lids were the darkest of browns.

She ran a thumb over the woman’s lips, and then slowly lowered her back into the sand. Suddenly, she had a hunch, an implausibility she didn’t want to consider, but at the same time knew she must. Her hand smoothed over the woman’s black hair to her shoulder, down her back to a place beneath her shoulder blade.

Ignoring Ella’s quizzical look and skirting around jagged wounds, she traced the muscles of the woman’s back, searching for the impossible. Not impossible, implausible, she reminded herself, as she closed her eyes and tried to remember the feel of Lucifer’s back beneath her fingers. His muscles were smooth, but sleek and quivered just slightly when he rolled his shoulders.

Horror dawned across Chloe’s features as she felt the same firm lines and sleek muscle on Jane Doe’s back. She hesitated for a brief second, fearing the worst, and then prodded the area just below the woman’s shoulder blade. There, just as on Lucifer’s back, was a powerful muscle that had but one purpose.

“Ah, there you are Detective!”

Chloe gasped at the sound of Lucifer’s voice and quickly yanked down to cover the woman. She leaned forward to whisper, low and urgently to Ella. “Keep her covered up.”

“Okay, but why?” Ella asked, clearly puzzled, but then her face began to crumble inch by inch. “Oh, man, she’s a friend of his, isn’t she?”

No, not a friend, Chloe thought with dawning horror. Someone far more personal. She smoothed the tarp over the victim and rose to her feet. Glancing over her shoulder, she noticed that Lucifer was within earshot, but not quite close enough to get a good look at the body. She tossed Ella one last, serious look. “Please.”

Chloe spun on her heel, took a deep breath, and strode toward Lucifer, hoping to cut him off. “Hey, you.”

Her voice was higher pitched than usual, a sure sign that she was upset, and she hooked his arm with hers. She leaned forward, pressing her forehead against his. “Ella is finishing up with the body. We should go talk to the witness.”

Lucifer frowned at her, slightly confused. After the debacle with Cain, she had made it clear that things were to be kept professional at work. He tried to walk past her, but Chloe edged in front of him, blocking his path. Finally, she caught him by the wrist and squeezed his hand.

“Detective?”

Chloe glanced over her shoulder at the covered woman, no angel, laying on the sand. “Lucifer, babe,” she began softly, gently, as if speaking to her daughter. “I—”

He made a choked sound, somewhere between a gasp and sob, and pulled away from her. For a moment, he didn’t move and simply stared silently ahead. Heart pounding in her chest, Chloe followed his gaze down the length of the tarp where the woman’s heeled shoe poked out the edge.

“Lucifer,” Chloe pleaded, gripping his bicep. “Please look at me.”

He obeyed, but only briefly, and the pulled away to stalk toward the covered woman.

“Hey, buddy,” Ella chirped as he approached, her tone weak and wary.  “I’m still uh testing things that need to be tested. So, um, hey.”

Ignoring her entirely, he reached down to grab the edge of the tarp and jerked it away with a single motion. Great forks of lightning streaked overhead, followed by a deafening peal of thunder. The sky split open, sending torrents of rain down upon the narrow stretch of beach.

Lucifer dropped to his knees in the sand and stared in naked wide-eyed horror at the woman splayed out on the sand. He glared up at the sky, the rain streaking down his face, and then forced his gaze back to the body. A single name tumbled from his lips.

“Raziel.”


End file.
